Lupus
by Hughesish
Summary: John had been raised in a world where werewolves were not to have anything to do with humans. They were dangerous and had a nasty habit of killing what they didn't understand. So why exactly was he sharing a flat with one? Or more importantly, falling in love?
1. Chapter 1

**Credit to my beta Telula13! She is incredible and a big reason why this story is any good at all! **

**This is to fill the multiple requests I've had for a sequel to 'A Study in Madness'. I honestly do not like how that story turned out as it was my first so I instead decided to give the werewolf au another go. So, here it is. I hope you like.**

Sherlock was the sort of man who could look at a bloke from a mile away and know just what he had for breakfast and how long he'd been lying to his wife about his diet. However these skills (and they are skills, though they may seem very magical) were learned through scientific discovery and hours of research in the field of man. It was true that his particular flourish and pension for stealing the spotlight made these observations something of a spectacle, but truly they could be learned by even the most common of men. Not that he was common, no, no man who stored a human head in his fridge was common by a long shot. Common or not common though, he is, was, and always will be a man. His flat mate on the other hand, was not.

* * *

When John was a boy he knew he was different. Not different in the sense of how a normal person would see different, because if he were viewing things from how one of us might see things he might have thought to himself "gee, being a werewolf sure is different". He did not think such things though because what pointless thoughts they would be. Besides, being a werewolf wasn't so different; there were plenty of them around, they simply stuck to their own kind. He knew he was different because he wasn't like the rest of them. Most werewolves viewed their lives as curses, their senses were so heightened that in human form it was hard to focus. Many of their kind self-medicating with alcohol to dull the senses and mind, and in doing so they could blend in with the rest of the humans. Blending in was essential. Though many simply hated feeling out of control, it was imperative they stay hidden from the humans. There was no telling what one might do if they found out. For this reason they did not share their secret with humans, they did not mate with humans, they usually didn't even talk to humans.

John was different because he liked running on his full senses and he didn't care who found out. He liked climbing trees faster than the other boys. He liked being able to smell what was for lunch from the classroom. He liked knowing that he was the strongest in his class. This isn't to say that John was a show off, or that he enjoyed thinking of himself as better than most, but as a child it was quite a rush. He would run and jump and play with the other children as if they were any other members of his pack. As a boy attending school, he saw no problem with this, but as a werewolf hiding a secret, he knew his parents would. He tried not to let that bother him, he tried to ignore the way his sister and cousins would tease him saying he wanted to be a human boy.

That was the worst thing of all because John did not want to be human. He was proud of what he was, he wanted to share his gifts, he wanted to be friends with humans and he wanted to be able to enjoy who he was. It was the others who hated what they were, who used beer to wash away their gifts, and who spent their lives in hiding and being envious of humans. John couldn't stand it, and finally, one day he didn't have to. He moved away from home to attend university, he earned himself a degree, and then shipped himself off to war. His family was appalled; werewolves normally got the bare minimum in education and held jobs at factories or doing manual labor at places their pack worked. They certainly did not involve themselves with human affairs like war. Only John didn't care for any of that, he wanted to be a doctor and he wanted to be a soldier. And who better for the task than a full-grown werewolf?

* * *

The military was an excellent place to be if you were a werewolf, it would seem, especially one who enjoyed being one. The vast expanses of Afghanistan provided ample room to run around and expend his energy. It also allowed him to make good use of his senses to save soldiers. John would be lying if he said that he hadn't enjoyed being away from his pack. Werewolves seemed such bitter people, they seemed determined to drown out everything that made them who they were, and yet despised those who were different. John had never understood, nor agreed with, such thinking, and he was soon about to find that he wasn't the only one.

About three months into his first deployment he ran into two of his kind. At first he didn't know what to think, his parents had been adamant that werewolves did not join in on human affairs, they did not talk to them and did not take part in their politics. To find these two was a big surprise and he found himself thrilled at the prospect of like-minded werewolves: Mary Morston and Sebastian Moran. Both turned out to be his closest of friends. They both agreed that being a werewolf was a gift. The three of them had all had their own sort of falling out with their packs in joining the army but that didn't matter since they'd found each other. They formed their own pack and ran through the dessert terrain with newfound freedom.

John liked the humans he was stationed with as well though. He found Bill Murray to be a great friend and a decent card player as well. The two of them enjoyed swapping stories about girls they'd dated and fights they'd gotten in: good wholesome army conversations. Sebastian had very few friends there, but that had little to do with their species. He never said anything against humans nor did he say anything for them. Sebastian was an odd creature, somewhat of a loner, which was odd for their kind. However John supposed that he wasn't the strangest thing to be and he was a great drinking buddy. Mary had a few friends like John and enjoyed her time working among them. She shared John's belief that there was no reason not to have relationships with humans.

Mary was an intelligent woman, and a beautiful one at that. John loved spending time with her; he stole every chance he could. They would talk hours on end about everything and nothing. He never felt more in love. They were so alike it was as if he'd found his other half. There weren't many things they disagreed on, and even less that held any importance. Neither of them could agree on what the best band was or why being scratched behind the ear felt so wrong yet so right. They both wanted children of their own, and to raise them with a sense of pride. Mary was very insistent that werewolves should be happy with who they were, that they could be so much more if they simply stopped hiding in the shadows.

John had been so happy he'd nearly forgotten he was at war...

A dangerous mistake to make.

Soon after his and Mary's fourth deployment (Sebastian's fifth) they were ambushed when out on a mission through a nearby town to disable a defective missile that had landed in the center of the town. In an instant they were surrounded and there were bullets flying everywhere. Bill and John were doing their best to help those who were injured while the other soldiers tried to slow the onslaught of bullets hailing down on them. When the firefight ended and John was able to look around for the first time without his vision being clouded by kicked up dirt or bullets he realized quickly that Mary was missing. His search for her had to wait though; he couldn't search for her in human form like he could in wolf form. When he got his chance he was off like a flash.

When he finally tracked her scent he had a feeling it wouldn't end well, but he had no idea that there was a silver bullet waiting for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Living with Sherlock was a rush. That was the simplest way to put it and often the exact way John would explain it. If he were to attempt to go further in depth with that statement it would take far too long. He would have to mention the brilliant deductions, the chasing of criminals at three in the morning, finding thumbs in the salad drawer, and of course being the only one to successfully hide one of the biggest secrets of all time from the smartest man of their generation. Granted, any practical information on werewolves was limited, and it was likely that since werewolves had never shared their secret (at least as far as John knew) that Sherlock didn't know the signs to look for. That didn't stop John from feeling utterly smug about it.

He was becoming more careless too, not on purpose mind you, but these sorts of things happen after you've lived with someone for so long. Sherlock felt comfortable, which put him at ease, and that made him forget occasionally that the one thing Sherlock didn't know about him was the one thing he couldn't know. He would forget sometimes after changing that fur would stick to his jumpers. Then of course there was the smelling of Sherlock's experiments from down the block, it was hard to explain being irate about it before he could even rightfully know. Worst of all though, worse than any of those, was the shifting.

A werewolf who is fully-grown and exercises about twenty hours a week (an easy enough task when one lives with Sherlock) will rarely ever shift. To shift (to put it in the vernacular for those who are not familiar) is to blur the line between man and beast. This is different to a change, which is the process of becoming the wolf. Changing (if one means to exercise properly and remain sane) should occur at the very least once a month (this of course does not need to occur during the full moon and if you assume so and say it to a werewolf's face they may just cuff you). Shifting is entirely different and much less useful in a traditional sense. At all times a werewolf has full use of all their enhanced abilities, during the change it is simply easier to put them to use. The wolf body also expends energy quicker, reducing the need to run and making it much easier to concentrate. For this reason many return to wolf form inside the safety and comfort of their home, not that John had that luxury.

To get back on point shifting occurs primarily during times of great stress. Fear, anger, sometimes just plain annoyance can trigger a shift if the werewolf is in a bad enough mood. Not much is known why this developed or what use it has other than that it takes far less time to shift than to change and gives them access to a few things their human form does not. There are claws and fangs, which both come in handy with a fight, if need be. Of course the eyes adjust to allow enhanced night vision if needed. The rest is superficial though, hair growth on the tops of hands and feet along with pointed ears and a slightly elongated nose (think a cross between a man and a wolf if you weren't already).

Back to the point John found himself shifting more and more around Sherlock. It was unavoidable really considering the longer they knew each other the more attached he became. If someone threatened Sherlock you could be sure a shift was well on its way. That had happened twice already and if it weren't for the dark and the human body's horribly dull eyes John would have been discovered for sure. However, he'd shifted when Moriarty took him to the pool as well, though he managed to get that under control before Sherlock arrived. The man's use of the word 'pet' made him wonder if the consulting criminal had seen, but he said nothing of it to John. The only other time John noted this occurring in or near Sherlock's presence was when he'd nearly set himself on fire for the sake of an experiment and spent a good two days in the hospital. He'd shifted in the hospital room yelling at the daft man for being so, well him. Had it not been for the fact that Sherlock had rolled over to attempt to ignore him he would have seen for sure. That was the closest he'd ever gotten to revealing his secret, luckily he was able to hide out in the loo for a while.

Secrets (even impossible ones like being a werewolf) could only be hidden for so long from the great detective. John wasn't sure what would happen if Sherlock found out, but he knew it went against every rule in the book to allow that to happen. With each passing day he wondered when he'd be smart enough to leave his flat mate to protect his people's secret, and dumb enough to lose his best friend for the sake of seclusion.


	3. Chapter 3

"Fuck." John hissed out harshly. His arms were burning and his mind felt cloudy. He should have known to be more careful, he should have known that if not one then the other would find out. Then again, had Sherlock been more forthcoming he might have known the gang they were dealing with worked for Moriarty. Blaming him hardly helped his situation of course, but it made him feel more angry than fearful. Being tied to a chair in the middle of some warehouse was one thing, but being tied down with silver chains was another. Worse, there was no telling if and when help would arrive. They'd split up, there were two possible locations and they were across town from each other. Sherlock took the one he thought was more likely to be the gang's hide out and took Lestrade and his team along with him. John had been told to go with some team or other but he didn't bother to listen to that. He was a werewolf after all; he'd work better on his own terms. Of course that sounded like absolute rubbish as he felt the silver slowly burn through his skin.

Obviously Moriarty must have planned this, he must have known, somehow. John had a feeling the gang hadn't been overly surprised by his visit: they'd been prepared. Which was the most annoying part of all. Even if Moriarty had discovered his secret, it was just insult to injury he'd figured out his weakness. That of course was bloody rubbish as well because why werewolves were so allergic to silver was beyond the doctor. It didn't make much sense, but then no one had done much scientific research on the subject so little could be discerned from the insufficient information they had. Most of which was just that it had a nasty habit of burning with an almost acidic quality through skin and bone.

John had a decent burn already and he wondered how long it would be before the chains worked agonizingly slow through his muscles, tearing them away and leaving his bone bare only to be broken down as well. He shuddered at the thought at gave one last attempt at wiggling free from the chains. No use of course, but it had been worth a shot. He really didn't want to lose his arms. The silver bullet that had pierced him in Afghanistan had done plenty of damage to his left arm already. He wondered if Sherlock would want him around once he was crippled in such a way, rendered practically useless for Sherlock's purposes. It might solve his dilemma about moving.

He'd been struggling with the decision for months, he'd managed to look up flats that he might afford, but went no further. When Mycroft mentioned it he just said it was for a friend. He was lying of course, Mycroft knew better, but said nothing more of it. Perhaps he just wanted to believe it, to believe that John and Sherlock would be flat mates for all eternity. While a modest man, John knew that his presence had calmed Sherlock in some ways, he knew that he helped keep him in line better than anyone else. He worried what would happen as well, but there was the secret to keep.

Not that it mattered while he was watched his arms esentially melt through. He just couldn't get it out of his mind. Would Sherlock go back to his old self? Cast John aside and go with his life from before? That was almost too horrible to think about; because John could not go back to life before, not by a long shot. With any luck he'd be able to get out of bed in the morning once he left. Sherlock was different though; he was brilliant and so awfully detached sometimes. He could easily find a replacement for John, as much as he hated to admit it.

Not long after John's consciousness began to fade in the haze of pain he heard a sharp cry from somewhere outside the warehouse. As far as he knew the gang left him there to bleed out as per their instruction. His mind tried to work through the sludge of over exerted nerve endings to reason out just what the noise could have been. Soon there was another noise followed by many more. Something like car doors opening and shutting. He felt a small sting of hope break through the surrounding layers of agony. There were footsteps and shouting that seemed to come from all around. John couldn't focus on any of it, except for the one that cried out louder than any of the others, one that grabbed his wary attention by the throat. It demanded to be heard, it was desperate and panicked, and it was Sherlock.

He could have wept, or maybe he did it wasn't clear at that point, but soon the doors to his lonely prison were being pried open and there were more footsteps. They were much louder and pounded against his ears, but he didn't mind. He especially stopped caring when Sherlock was in front of him and using bolt cutters to release him from the chains. The relief was so immense that he let out something of a sob and slumped back in the chair. He took several deep breaths to keep calm as his body processed the sudden change in condition.

"John, what did they do to you?" Sherlock asked quietly and with a hint of rage. "Why did you come here alone?" He added after a moment with just a touch more malice. John looked down at the man who was kneeling in front of him with eyes that held both panic and anger. He wondered how he might explain this to him, how he could help him make sense of this. Because normal people really don't rush into warehouses alone or have such a strong reaction to silver. John struggled with an answer until finally Lestrade came rushing over with a team of paramedics.

"Come on lads we don't have time for this, the finger pointing and name calling can wait until after we get John stitched up." Lestrade said sternly as the paramedics helped John onto the gurney. John was hurried into an ambulance that was waiting outside and Sherlock followed closely behind. They didn't speak on the ride to the hospital, which was a godsend because he really didn't know what to say.


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully John's trip to the hospital was a short one. It didn't take long for a werewolf to heal but the silver made scarring inevitable. His body did a good job of keeping that to a minimum, he was happy to note all that remained were two thin lines, one on each arm. Sherlock was suspicious of John's recovery time however and that meant he had to keep the bandages on for a while as they 'healed'. He hoped it would be as easy as that, but he knew Sherlock better than to assume. The man was unstoppable once he put his mind to something, which meant that John either had to make his predicament appear extremely boring or make it go away completely. John wasn't sure he was ready to leave just yet, the idea still made his heart clench, but he wasn't sure he could risk staying around.

If he stayed much longer Sherlock would find out, there was no avoiding that. Even if he bought himself some time, it really would only prolong the inevitable. However, there was part of him that wanted to see what would happen. He took his time in looking for flats and wondered if Sherlock found out before he moved, what would happen? Sherlock's distant nature made something like love (of a romantic persuasion anyway) impossible. He would never love John like John… well, he would never love John. They were friends though and John did have some feelings towards him. It was unlikely he would sell John to a team of mad scientists, like his parents had always thought, since he did care in his own odd way. He might conduct experiments of his own though… John wasn't quite sure how he felt about that one.

If Sherlock did find out it wasn't likely he would go around telling people, not that he had many people to tell… or that people would really believe him without proof. Mycroft would find out for sure, if anything just because John could never shake the feeling the man had their flat bugged. He would hear them talking about it or see some experiment of Sherlock's, somehow he would figure it out. That actually scared John, Mycroft generally was just annoying but it was clear he had power and a strong brotherly protectiveness of Sherlock. If he found John a threat in any way, that would be the end of him.

Despite his feelings on the matter it still stood that no one (alive) knew and that his kind felt a particular way about humans knowing. It was probably for the best that he left and kept the secret a secret. The last thing he needed was a pack of especially human-hating wolves to tear him apart for revealing the secret. Harry had been in league with some for a while, and he knew the type. They didn't even talk to humans, not even if they had to interact with them. John thought they were just being dicks, but they called it survival. Not all werewolves were so against humans, in fact it wasn't considered so abnormal to be friends with them at work or to see them socially from time to time, even a date or two. However John was well aware that no werewolves moved in with humans or dated them repeatedly or considered some of them their best friends. Harry had never approved.

Clara had been fairly liberal like him, which is why his sister eventually left her. Harry was drinking more and more out of rage than to drown out her senses. The werewolves who assumed themselves better than humans usually didn't drink to dull their minds; they liked feeling more powerful, and were known to exert that power over unsuspecting humans. Harry had a falling out with that pack after a night of drinking and fighting, but that didn't stop her from spreading her feelings of hate to both John and Clara's answering machines. About a month after the warehouse incident she decided it was the perfect night to stop by and share some of those feelings right to John's face.

John was sitting in his favourite chair contemplating if he'd ever hear someone play the violin so magnificently once he left, or if he'd be able to read the paper without it, when Sherlock stopped abruptly. That in itself wasn't so odd though John found it annoying as he was enjoying the melody. Sherlock moved closer to the window and peered down curiously as John continued to try and focus on his article. He hated how much of his attention belonged to Sherlock, it only made it more obvious how hard it would be to leave him once he found the appropriate place to live.

"John." Sherlock called nonchalantly. "It appears your sister is paying us a visit." He continued and pointed down somewhere out the window.

John leaped from his seat and looked to where the man was pointing. Sure enough Harriet was stumbling her way closer to the building, she chugged what was left of a bottle of scotch and threw it to the ground with a crash. "Suppose we can add litterer to her list of finer traits." Sherlock added with a scoff.

"Fuck, what is she doing here?" John grumbled and made his way to the door in a hurry. The last thing he needed was Harry going on another one of her anti-human rants in front of Sherlock. He made his way down taking the stairs two at a time and opened the front door just as Harry reached it.

She was surprised to see John appear so suddenly but she was obviously piss drunk and mad. She had shifted at some point and John hoped no one had seen her. He stepped out and shut the door behind him to address her.

"Why are you here, like that?" John asked as calmly as he could manage.

"Why do you think? I can't help it, not when I can't stop thinking about my only brother shacking up with some-"

"Harriet. My life is none of your business. Who I live with is up to me, do you understand? We've talked about this before. Don't come around here to yell at me for things that you have no control over." John stated in a low voice, hoping to keep their conversation as quiet as possible so his very nosy flat mate would not hear.

"You're my brother, of course it's my business! You're going to get yourself killed!" Harriet yelled despite John's attempts and wishes for a quiet conversation.

He stared at her and gritted his teeth for a moment and hoped that Sherlock had not heard her.

"Killed? Come on Harriet, me? I got shot with silver and lived to tell the tale; I think I can manage living with a human, no matter how crazy he is." John argued and waved a hand in the direction of his old wound. It was true that to survive such a thing was a miracle since being poisoned by the silver was such a distinct possibility. Many considered such a scar a symbol of strength; to him it was only a reminder of pain and loss.

"I'm not talking about that stupid ape; I'm talking about bloody Mary's boys. They know about you and you know how they feel about your types. They won't hesitate to snap your neck and use you as an example, last week they got Jimmy just because he was seen on a date with some ape from his work. They strapped him to a silver chair and left him there for a week. Jimmy wasn't well liked but a date is hardly something new, think what they'll do to you. If you don't leave I don't think you'll survive the week." Harriet said shakily and grasped at John's arms for support.

He held onto her and looked straight into her eyes and could see the fear and pain there. She liked Jimmy; they had been mates since they were pups; no doubt that was why she was drunk.

"I can handle Mary and any scum she has hanging around her. It's about time we had a chat anyway."

John hadn't seen her since the hospital when woke up to find the silver bullet that had pierced his shoulder had been taken out in time. Mary looked worse lying like a small pup in her white bed. She had a map of scars from silver tools; she was never the same after that. She'd earned herself the nickname bloody Mary from that day in the desert. John had come charging in full form, fighting off most of the men. Someone had told them though, they knew about the silver. John had burned his paws freeing Mary from her prison cell. He was shot in the process and blacked out soon after. Luckily he changed back to his human form so that when Mary was able to radio base all they found was John, Mary, and a pile of bloody bodies. Hence, bloody Mary. He hadn't seen it, but he knew the carnage must have been extensive, even Sebastian remembered it with a shiver. It was hard to determine what sort of shiver it was sometimes.

"John, don't, please! Think about what could happen, there are too many of them! They will kill you; they'll make you eat silver!" Harriet pleaded and her grip grew desperate.

"Harriet, calm down. I can take care of myself. I've never been in a fight I didn't walk away from on top, now have I? Besides, Mary and I have history." John said as he pried Harry's hands off him and held them firmly.

She shook her head despairingly and a tear streaked down her face.

"It's not the same anymore. She's different, she's angrier. She might still like you, but that will only get you so far, and it may only make things worse for Sherlock."

"Go home Harry, I have a lot to think about." John commanded sternly and released Harry's hands.

She sniffled but nodded, the fight had drained out of her along with her wolf qualities and she looked as though she might collapse. John hailed her a taxi just to be safe and paid the man in advance considering the likelihood of Harry having saved any money after her late night bender was slim to none. He stormed up the stairs to the flat with a newfound sense of rage. Mary didn't trust humans after what happened in Afghanistan and she wasn't afraid to let people know. John never approved, but until recently it had been a lot of talk and some random late night fights. Killing was something new and John was afraid that if she wouldn't listen to reason he might have to put a stop to her himself.

When he reached the door he could see Sherlock hovering near the window, not even bothering to appear as though he weren't just trying to listen in. John sighed and braced himself for the worst. There was no telling how much the man had heard, but if he knew now then everything would be ruined. Sherlock would not allow him to leave if he thought there was new information to be learned or danger to be had.

"What did you hear?" John asked determinedly. There was no way of avoiding it so John figured it best to get the conversation over with, though his hands trembled with anxiety.

"Enough." Sherlock stated and glared at John accusingly.

The hint of disgust in his voice sent chills down the doctor's spine. John wondered for a moment if this was the last he would see of Sherlock, if he'd discounted the possibility that Sherlock would not want him around. That he wouldn't want him for experiment or anything, that he would be repulsed and just want him gone. His blood ran cold at the thought, a life without Sherlock Holmes was bad enough; a life where Sherlock hated him was something worse. He wasn't sure he could stand that sort of rejection, but he soldiered on anyway.

"You're really going to have to be more specific on this one." John replied and he nearly flinched when Sherlock's eyes flickered with rage.

"A woman by the name of 'bloody Mary' has the intention of killing you by means of silver, possibly me as well, she has already killed a man by the name of Jimmy whom your sister appears to have been close with. Your plan is to meet with this woman by yourself and stop her… did I miss anything?" Sherlock spit out angrily and clenched his fists.

John held back a sigh of relief; clearly Sherlock had missed a rather important bit of information.

"It's Mary, we go way back. Harry is just drunk and nervous because of what happened to Jimmy. She won't hurt me and I certainly wouldn't let her hurt you." John said defensively and barely concealed a shiver as his body attempted to shift. His bond with Sherlock was really becoming a nuisance; he could hardly keep himself from shifting when he thought about someone trying to harm the man.

"Why? Why would your sister think she is planning to kill us? Does it have something to do with your sister? She was affiliated with her at some point, your posture says that much. And why silver, why is it that you are affected by silver, you never explained beyond a lame allergy excuse. I'm beginning to suspect that the event that took place at the warehouse is connected to this somehow… tell me what's going on." Sherlock demanded and spread his lips into a thin line.

"Yeah, she knew my sister, but this doesn't have much to do with her. It has to do with Mary; she's just a bit confused right now. She won't hurt us, and this has nothing to do with what happened at the warehouse, that was Moriarty remember? And that's not a lame excuse it's the truth." John replied in a voice that was a bit louder than he liked.

"You were lying then, and you're lying now. Explain this to me now; clearly you're far too idiotic to ask for help in the first place so I'm telling you to do it now. Explain this to me and we can have Lestrade help us capture this woman." Sherlock continued on, his tone both biting and nervous.

John softened just as a bit as he imagined that Sherlock might have been genuinely scared something could happen to him; especially if he was willing to call Lestrade for help. For a moment he considered just coming out, just announcing his secret so Sherlock would know that there really was nothing he could do, but he knew that was likely to just put him in further danger.

"This isn't a problem for Lestrade, or you for that matter. I will handle this. Mary is my problem and what she's up to is more complicated than I'm willing to get into right now." John said quickly and began making his way to his room to think before Sherlock raced after him and grabbed at his arm.

"Of course this is my problem! He is intent on killing my best friend!" Sherlock shouted and John felt a jolt of electricity run through him. Sherlock only referred to them as friends a handful of times and somehow his declaration sounded thousands of times more important than the others. He looked a fright, as though the mere mention of John's life being threatened had thrown him out of balance.

John removed Sherlock's hands as he had done to Harry not moments before and cleared his throat.

"So Harry says. I don't know how true that is yet, besides she's got no chance in hell of getting the jump on me." John tried to assure, though he wasn't entirely sure how convincing that was.

Sherlock nodded but he hardly looked like he was agreeing. They parted at the stairs and John tried to think of a way out of his mess while Sherlock played some of the most frantic music he'd ever heard.


	5. Chapter 5

When John wasn't thinking of ways to approach Mary he was thinking of ways to distract Sherlock. He'd found him snooping through medical journals on allergies and had even requested to see John's medical history. That really wouldn't do. The more Sherlock observed, the more he learned about John, the more questions he would have. A big one would be that there would be only two recorded instances in his medical history he wasn't already aware of: his birth and being shot in Afghanistan. Werewolves don't go to hospitals or doctors. In fact if he had been able he would have fought to keep himself out after they'd found him in the warehouse. There was no telling what sort of information could be deciphered from blood samples or x-rays. Nothing had been discovered yet, but there was no telling if or when someone would notice something was off.

Very few werewolves looked into such things as they remained in manual labor and generally either spent their time hating what they were or worshiping themselves. Neither party had any interest in researching what made werewolves tick. John researched a bit when he was in university, but he didn't find much. Being a werewolf was virtually undetectable when in Human form. There was no difference in blood other than an elevated white blood cell count, which would hardly raise any red flags. Werewolves had thicker skin, but again that would likely go overlooked. Their bone density was considerably higher, that might attract attention, but probably not enough for people to start claiming werewolf.

Because of this John knew there wasn't much Sherlock could figure out by stealing some of his things, likely for genetic analysis. He wouldn't see any differences under that microscope of his, especially not with his human eyes. John hadn't seen a thing. So he said nothing when his hair brush went missing and figured it might be beneficial even, that his seemingly normal molecules may be the perfect distraction.

Meeting with Mary would be tough to arrange without her posse around. However, John had a feeling he would be able to swing it with a little help, so long as Sherlock was preoccupied he would have enough time to hopefully fix the situation. In order to make things go smoothly he handed off his medical files to Sherlock (really what harm could they do, nothing there that wasn't in anyone else's files, in fact there was considerably less) and rang Sebastian. They hadn't talked since Afghanistan but he was sure given how close they were that wouldn't matter much. They agreed to arrange a meeting with Mary and declare it a friendly reunion so she would arrive alone. If everything went well it might wind up exactly that.

Leaving Sherlock reading his files with fierce intensity he told him he'd be leaving for work and exited quickly. He didn't like lying or being sneaky when it came to Sherlock, but he had to do what would keep them safe. Sebastian was already waiting for him in the park when his cab pulled up and he paid the man before catching up. Sebastian looked different from the last time he'd seen him: older than he should look and freckled with scars. His eyes were just as sharp though and he still had the same dry chuckle that used to crackle in John's ears late at night. They chatted for a little until john cleared his throat and became more serious.

"I hate to bring you into this Sebastian I really do, and I won't blame you for leaving once she gets here if you want. This is between me and her, I know that, but I appreciate your help." John said as the mirth of laughter faded from his eyes.

Sebastian nodded solemnly and slapped him on the back almost painfully.

"Trust me; it's no trouble to stay. It's been a long time since I've seen you up close: her too. I've heard a lot of rumors about what she's been up to; I'm interested to see how much of it is true." Sebastian replied smoothly and a wide smile spread across his face that John wasn't entirely sure he liked.

"The less that's true the better if you ask me. I just want to make sure she's not planning on shoving silver down my throat as she guts my flat mate." John snorted grimly. Mary had never been an overly gentle woman, but he'd never thought her capable of murder before. The comment wasn't meant to make him feel so hollow and cold but it had and the thought of her trying to harm Sherlock made him verge on the edge of shifting once again.

"Careful their mate, don't want to get too worked up. You haven't even talked to her yet. Besides if she had plans that colorful she'd be ten times more interesting than the last I saw of her, she's probably got something much less creative in mind." Sebastian said with one of his chuckles, which made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He'd never liked Sebastian's lack of sensitivity, but he liked it even less when it was directed at Sherlock. They were silent for a while as they waited and finally when she was about twenty minutes late John began to wonder if she was even coming at all. He looked around the park but all he could see were a few random visitors and one CCTV camera from across the street pointed in his direction. He wondered what Mycroft would make of this whole thing, if he was in fact watching and it wasn't just John's paranoia getting the best of him.

"Fuck. Maybe she's not showing, she might know that I know. Or she could just be out right avoiding me. I suppose I'll have to meet her on her terms then." She hadn't sounded too thrilled when he called, but he didn't think she sounded suspicious. Whatever her reason for not coming he hoped it wasn't a serious one. The last thing he needed was a determined Mary. Once she'd made her mind up there wasn't much that could stop her. Ironically that was one of his favourite things about her.

"Damn. We were hoping she'd show." Sebastian cursed and began pulling something out of his pocket.

John turned to him confused and sent him a puzzled look.

"We?" He questioned and watched as Sebastian pulled the cap off of what looked like an epi-pen. Perhaps if John weren't a soldier or if he were a bit more human he might not have reacted as quickly as he did. As fate would have it he was both those things and therefore easily avoided Sebastian's arm as it shot out to stab him with the unknown substance. "What are you doing?" John asked hysterically as he tried to reason out why his friend was trying to drug him.

Sebastian had never had the best moral compass but John didn't think he was capable of this. Sebastian lunged at him and John ran as fast as he could towards the main road. He was shocked and a bit pissed to find that the seemingly random pedestrians in the park were in fact in league with Sebastian. They closed in around him and while he managed to land a few good punches to a few of them it wasn't long before he felt a prick on the back of his neck.

The effects were almost instantaneous, the liquid hidden inside felt hot and burning and he recognized it immediately as silver. As his legs buckled beneath him from the effects of the poisonous substance he looked up at Sebastian with betrayal in his eyes. Sebastian smiled and held John's chin so that he wouldn't fall forward yet. John didn't know what the man was going to say but he hoped it was some sort of explanation, something to help this make more sense. He also hoped that at least one of these men were dumb enough to leave behind a decent clue for Sherlock or that Mycroft really was watching from the camera across the street, because if he was going to die he wanted to at least take the rest of them down with him.

"Don't worry John, this stuff's specially made. It won't kill you, not with the amount I gave you, just enough to make sure you cooperate." Sebastian explained with a wicked grin and the men surrounding him soon lifted him into a nearby van and drove off quickly. The silver coursed through his veins and making his nerve endings send out waves of pain that soon had him slipping unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

Mary Morston was a smaller woman with fairly common features, brown hair, brown eyes and reasonably tanned skin. Much like John that had little effect on her presence. When Sherlock saw the woman enter his flat late on a Thursday night he was surprised to say the least but was not fooled by her smaller figure. His first instinct was to assume she was affiliated with Mycroft or one of his other enemies. Further inspection revealed that she was something else entirely. Judging by her knuckles she fought regularly and the cut of her clothes suggested she spent a lot of time outside. He was seated on the sofa at the time still studying John's medical files when she'd arrived but he quickly set them aside. He'd already placed multiple calls to Mycroft to have professionals inspect John's genetic material and see what they could make from the files as well. Sherlock could see that the lack of information there was the biggest clue to whatever John was hiding. With Mary's unexpected visit interrupting his research he didn't have much use of any of the social niceties that John always insisted he practice.

"Breaking and entering when the residents are still at home is a bit idiotic wouldn't you say?" He quipped and stood from the sofa letting his robe fall open. He hadn't moved since John left for work so the material of his pajamas were creased and his legs ached to be stretched as he stood solidly in front of the oddly intimidating female.

"I think you mean resident as in the singular, and considering the circumstances I'd say it is you who's the idiotic one." She snarled back and looked around the flat quizzically. She sniffed the air and sent a perturbed look towards the fridge before glaring at Sherlock once more.

The detective grit his teeth at the mention of his own idiocy and looked about the flat as well. It seemed she was correct John was not yet home. He observed the clock and felt a jab of panic when he realized how late it was.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked in a dangerously low tone. It was no coincidence that this woman had decided to show herself and that John was most likely missing or being held captive. His thoughts circled around images of John in Semtex like at the pool or when he'd been strapped down with silver chains. He tried to clear his mind and focus on the woman in front of him; he had to try to get the answers he needed. He had to make sure John was ok.

"I'm not sure exactly, that's why I need your help." She replied and took a step closer as her eyes dragged across Sherlock's body. She clearly didn't care for him, but Sherlock could safely say the feeling was mutual.

"Why do you care? Are you one of the girlfriends he insists on having?" Sherlock questioned and tried to determine just how her face seemed to be contorting as she became more frustrated. He didn't care much for the girls that John had around, he didn't like the idea of them holding his attention for so long, especially in such a... sexual context.

"Why I care is none of your business, all you need to know is that we're mates. We don't see eye to eye much any more but that hardly matters now. He's gone and gotten himself kidnapped, surprisingly enough it isn't completely your fault this time." She snapped and moved further into the room when John's medical files caught her attention. "You shouldn't be snooping in places you don't belong." She growled and clenched her fists tight.

"Wherever John is concerned I belong." Sherlock answered steadily and observed the woman's animalistic behaviour with curiosity. It wasn't often that he met someone worth his attention and none of John's girlfriends had ever been able to manage that, not even for a moment. He instantly hated her more for being so damnably interesting.

"Stupid ape, you don't even know what you're tampering with. I'd kill you right now if it weren't for John." The woman snapped ferociously and was suddenly much closer than Sherlock remembered her being.

He took a step back and studied her for a tick before straightening himself out, not wanting to reveal his momentary shock.

"Much obliged." Sherlock drawled with only the most eloquent use of sarcasm. The woman growled at his tone and he took a beat to think. "You clearly don't like me." He stated factually.

"What gave me away?" She quipped and Sherlock chose to ignore her.

"And you have no qualms with killing me or-I suspect-any other person to your disliking." He continued and studied the furious creature in his sitting room. She nodded minutely and he smirked briefly. "Yet you claim to be friends with John. He would not affiliate himself with someone who has such low moral ambitions, which would explain why I've never seen you before… despite your eagerness to save him you're still reluctant to seek my help. You disapprove. So the lack of contact isn't completely one sided then… though it's odd that you would even know enough about John's current affairs to know that John was in trouble to start with. You've either recently begun tailing him or you're quite the devoted stalker. I'd assume the latter given John's magnetic qualities however you don't show even half of the signs. Given the facts I'd have to say you are most likely a companion of the rumoured bloody Mary or the very woman herself." Sherlock concluded and watched carefully as the woman reacted.

She narrowed her eyes briefly before taking a step closer.

"How do you know my name?" Mary asked in a dangerously low voice.

"I overheard a conversation between John and his inebriated sister. She claims you killed a friend of hers by the name of Jimmy. That and that you intend to kill both John and I." Sherlock explained casually though he was becoming equal parts more interested and more worried.

"She's an idiot. I would never kill John." Mary replied candidly and Sherlock relaxed a fraction.

"So you plan to kill me, yet you're asking me for my help." Sherlock said aloud as he processed the information and tried to understand what Mary expected to happen.

"There were no plans in motion to kill you. I know better than to think John would ever forgive me for that. He's grown… fond of you." She admitted and gritted out the last part with great pains.

Sherlock smiled at the new information and took pride in knowing John's affections were so well pronounced. He schooled his expression when he reminded himself why she was there in the first place.

"If not you then who has John, and why?" Sherlock asked and clasped his hands behind his back anxiously.

"Moriarty." She snarled out and the name sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine.

His stomach nearly lurched as he attempted to remain calm.

"That psychopath has Sebastian working for him. I found out just a few weeks ago from one of my scouts. Sebastian never had much loyalty to our kind, but this… it makes me sick to think I once called him friend. They've been conducting experiments on our people; I'm not sure exactly what kind. When John called me about meeting him and Sebastian today at the park I knew it was a trap. Sebastian had tried to lure me out before, I'm sure he assumed John's invitation would trick me into coming. I went, but I had to stay far enough away so they wouldn't smell me. By the time it happened I was too late. I was too far away to stop them from shoving him in that van, and there was no way I could pursue on foot in the middle of the day. I did my best to check out some alleged hang out spots for their gangs but I had no luck. That's why I came here, you're the only one John would trust with this and you're the best for the job. We need to find where Moriarty is keeping him. "She explained hesitantly.

It was obvious to the detective that it was taking her a great deal of effort to reveal so much to him. He attributed that to John, the man had a way of making people care. Something he found both infuriating and wonderful.

"This Sebastian was a friend to you and John. Why would he take either of you?" Sherlock questioned as he did his best to understand the situation. "And what exactly do you mean by 'your people'?" He added as he considered everything she had said. It was odd to use such a phrase for people who didn't appear to be any set ethnicity.

John and Mary certainly seemed to have different hereditary backgrounds so he doubted it had to do with that sort of thing. A cultural identity was possible, something religious even? Except John wasn't very religious from what he observed, though that might explain the falling out. However it could just as easily refer to his military affiliations, though he'd never heard such phrasing from anyone else in the army. Mary stood silent for a moment as she considered the questions and looked as though she were in the middle of a life altering debate.

"If I have anything less than full disclosure it will give Moriarty the advantage and put John at risk." He pointed out hoping it would help her make a decision faster.

It appeared to work as she rolled her shoulders and nodded. "This sort of thing tends to be a bit hard to believe, I'd rather skip the part where you decide I'm crazy and go straight to the part where I end up having to show you anyway." She explained as she moved the furniture around so that there was a large portion of the living room cleared.

Sherlock watched with fascination and wondered what exactly he was about to be shown. It seemed odd to say the least but then he'd seen many odd things in his time. Mary began removing her clothing and he started to become more than a little confused. Perhaps they bore some special mark on their skin? What did that have to do with rearranging the living room?

"Step back." She warned and Sherlock did as he was told, silently wishing that she would hurry up, for the sake of his curiosity and John's safety. "Oh, and don't scream." She added as she removed the last article of clothing and Sherlock rolled his eyes (Despite what Mycroft or anyone else thought he was hardly alarmed by naked women) after observing that she carried no obscure marking on her skin though she had quite a few scars.

Suddenly Mary's entire body began… changing. Her limbs stretched and bent at odd angles, which Sherlock suspected was being caused by multiple breaks. He could hear the snapping of bones and teeth as large fangs extended from her elongating mouth. With every passing second her humanity was being peeled away and being replaced with something beastly. Hair covered her at the end of the change and it was clear that she had transformed into a large wolf. A very large wolf. She towered over him and her bright eyes found his in an instant. She was clearly very aware of her surroundings though she was still out of breath. The change had taken a great deal of effort it seemed and Sherlock couldn't help but find himself speechless. He'd never seen something so magnificent or insanely impossible. It enraged him to think that Moriarty knew about this before he did, or that this is what John had been hiding. It explained the lack of medical treatment though, clearly their kind avoided discovery. He marveled at Mary's thick coat of brown fur and strong features and wondered how avoiding a few doctors visits could keep such creatures hidden for so long. He also wondered what John would look like. He wanted to know everything he could about these creatures; he wanted to know what John could do.

"Fantastic." He breathed out finally and drew himself closer. The wolf rolled her eyes and Sherlock couldn't help but be thrilled that they appeared to maintain human intelligence. "Do you all look like this?" He asked and received a shake of the head, which was so large it would be perfectly reasonable to assume she could devour him in one bite. "No? Does John look like this?" He continued, still trying to grasp the fact that all this time John held such incredible surprises.

She shook her head again and Sherlock felt excitement and curiosity bubble up inside him. He wanted to see John so badly, for more reasons than one. He reminded himself that John was in danger and that there would be time in the future to look into such things.

"Alright, so you're… wolves. Brilliant, let's hope that can be of some use. As far as finding Moriarty, my brother should know of several locations. We mustn't waste any more time." Sherlock declared and retrieved his phone as quickly as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

The silver was slowly making its way out of John's system, but his mind was still clouded with pain. He could think though, and that was a plus considering just a few hours ago he couldn't do anything more than grit his teeth and try not to scream. The silver may have been laced with certain properties to keep it from killing him, but it still burned like crazy. If he made it out alive he swore he'd punch Sebastian square in the jaw for that. At the moment, that didn't seem very likely, but he'd always been a dreamer. Besides, there was always the off chance that Mycroft had been watching, though it would be just like the prat to pick right then to mind his own business. He didn't bother testing the strength of the bars surrounding him; he was too weak to fight his way out even if he they weren't silver. The chances of bending that were slim to none even in perfect condition. Besides, he could smell at least a hundred more werewolves, not likely he'd be the one out of one hundred to get lucky.

His cell was small but provided enough room to change if he had the desire. Not that he did, he doubted very seriously that he'd want to go breaking bones any time soon. There was a small cot and a toilet that looked unsanitary to say the least, otherwise it was bare. He wondered what they wanted with him, what they had wanted with Mary. Did Mary know? It was likely; she always seemed to be more in the loop than him. It was just as possible that she had simply stood him up though. His heart sunk at the thought. Without her, there wasn't a single werewolf who would know of his distress. He wasn't sure what sort of defences this place had and he didn't like the idea of Sherlock or any of the Yard trying to rescue him and whoever else Moriarty had locked up. There was no telling what they might see or what danger they might be put into even if they managed a rescue.

No one had come to see him since Sebastian dropped him in his cell and he was beginning to feel anxious. From the looks of things he was in some sort of prison, one specifically made for werewolves. His mother's warnings about humans testing on their kind came to mind. Whoever had taken him meant business, and for some reason Sebastian was working with him.

When the door to his cell finally opened he nearly gasped. Moriarty was standing not four meters away from him and smiling like a kid on Christmas. He had two large guards at his sides that looked ready to pounce at any moment. Smart, if they weren't John probably would have killed the psychopath there. He tried to make himself look tougher, less feeble, he wasn't so sure he succeeded, but it made him feel better. Moriarty stalked closer with a gleam of something not quite human in his eyes; John did his best to try not to place that look.

"Well isn't this brilliant. So nice to see you again Johnny-boy, glad to see you've managed to recover so quickly. Can't say the samr for most of your lot; I can't tell you how many dogs I had moaning through the night afterwards." Moriarty chimed lightly as if he were discussing the weather over afternoon tea causing John to snarl involuntarily and was met with several red dots sprinkled across his chest. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, they can get a bit trigger happy." Jim warned lightly and smirked at John as he became tenser.

"What do you want with me?" John spat out not wanting to drag out some complicated conversation with Moriarty. He needed to get out, the whole place stank of… well John didn't really want to distinguish all of the scents. For the time being he acknowledged the fact that whatever was being done to the other wolves was not good, it was the farthest thing from good. His curious nature combined with his own instinctual need to help others made him want to uncover just what all those smells really meant, but his more human side was still decidedly not interested.

"With you? Not much. With your wolf? Now there's something worth having a go at." Moriarty answered delightfully and flashed a smile towards the doctor. "There are plenty of washed up army doctors out there, werewolves are more unique than that. I've got more use for those." He explained casually and shifted on the balls of his feet.

John had assumed this had more to do with his genealogy rather than his person, but considering how he'd been trapped, and the things Sebastian said, he felt there was more to it than that. Especially given this was Moriarty and his sworn nemesis was John's best friend.

"There are plenty of us out there; you went out of your way to grab me and Mary. Why?" John asked harshly and left out his questions about Sebastian for the time being.

Moriarty smirked at his questioning and appraised him for a moment.

"You're both skilled. Trained to kill and touchingly loyal." He began and stepped just a bit closer. "I need pets like you to help control my army." He continued and let an evil grin break free on his face.

John could feel something cold rushing through his veins as his mind raced to grasp what he was being told. An army, an army of werewolves, under Moriarty's control? There was no way he thought that John would ever consent to that. And he knew Mary wouldn't either, she'd never work with a human, not after Afghanistan.

"Oh yeah? And how exactly do you plan to manage that?" John asked viciously then reminded himself that there were several snipers pointed at him. John's stomach clenched as Moriarty chuckled and did a small twirl.

"It's so simple; really I don't know why no one's thought of it before." Moriarty nearly shrieked with glee and waved his hands in the air for effect. He moved even closer to John, close enough he could feel the vile man's breath tickle his nose. "I'd make you my mates." Moriarty said simply and the words oozed from his mouth and to John's ears.

If he hadn't been sick before he was then, because to even suggest having more than one mate was a perversion of everything werewolves understood about the strongest of bonds between their people. From what he understood it shouldn't even be possible.

"You're lying; you can only have one mate." John replied hoarsely as he tried to control the bile rising up in his throat. No one could force a mating, not without making a completely fucked up bond that could hardly be considered such. They certainly couldn't have more than one mate and John wasn't even sure mating with a human was possible. They didn't have the same sense of loyalty or connection.

"Oh but I'm not. I've been experimenting. Learning things that even you don't know. Your kind are so pathetically simple, they allow themselves to be controlled by one person, one stupid person. Only humans aren't so willing to commit are they? No, in fact my being human is exactly what allows me to have as many of you mated to me as I like. I've got about fifty-six so far, not many of you out there are easy to find. All of them bonded to me, forced to listen to everything I say, to do as I say. I can monitor their moods and ambitions in less than a second. I can command them to kill in the blink of an eye. And the best part is they can never betray me." Moriarty explained with a cruel emphasis on his syllables. He was smiling manically now, barely containing the insanity burning inside his twisted little mind.

John backed away in horror at the thought that this man, no, this monster had stolen something so sacred and treated it as though it were nothing more than a simple agreement. A mate was for life; it was a bond so strong, so important that it was considered the most vital decision a werewolf would make in their life.

John needed to get out, he needed to save these people; he needed to stop this madman before he ruined more lives. He needed to do it before he became bonded to the most fucked up person on the planet. If the psychopath mated himself to John, then there was only one thing he could do. He would have to kill himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! Haven't said anything in a while. I just wanted to say happy holidays and that I'm so glad for all of your feed back. I've been really busy this year so it's been hard to work on this. I hope all of you are enjoying the story so far and I really look forward to your comments. If you have any questions to ask or ideas you like to share with me about what you'd like to see just let me know. I'm still working on the ending so I'm open to many possibilities.**

"It's a shame you two can never manage to stay out of trouble longer than a week."

"Oh, do shut up."

"No I mean it, I worry about the state of the good doctor's heart, even given recent developments."

"John will be just fine, better still if you would learn to make yourself useful rather than just a pain in the-"

"Both of you; shove it!" Mary interrupted loudly cutting Sherlock short.

Mycroft smiled smugly from across the car and Sherlock contained a snarl for the sake of his dignity. They hadn't stopped arguing since Mycroft had picked them up from 221b. For good reason Sherlock would defend; his brother made a habit of being unbearably annoying and nosy. He had observed the abduction of one John Watson and considered it to be confidential information kept on a need to know basis. Sherlock, apparently, did not need to know. Mycroft insisted he didn't want to worry Sherlock, but he knew the reality was he didn't want to admit that he couldn't handle the situation himself, though he was trying desperately. Sherlock had one essential thing Mycroft didn't, he had Mary; who at the moment was just as aggravated with the two brothers as they were with each other.

"I've got no desire to listen to a couple of apes fight over who's cocked up worse. Honestly you're both a couple of idiots with fancy suits and plenty of tools, but when it comes right down to it you're practically useless. John should have never run off with your lot, he'd have been better off if he'd listened to reason. Maybe he will after all this is over."

"Perhaps you're right, though last I checked you weren't complaining about having access to those 'fancy suits and tools'." Mycroft countered stiffly from his seat, his grip tightening minutely on his umbrella.

Mary snarled at that and Sherlock was fairly certain that she didn't care much for her dignity.

"If I had it my way I wouldn't have access to any of that garbage. The fact that my people insist on blending in among you is both highly infuriating and stupid. They will come to their senses eventually." Mary explained curtly. "We belong in the wild, not contained indoors, following rules made by men for men." She continued with a sneer and balled her hands into fists. "One day we will take our rightful place in the world order." She finished with an imperious sniff and folded her arms over her chest.

"Wouldn't put much stock in that given your nasty habit of being killed by simple metals." Sherlock said mockingly and made note to ask John his stance on all this when he saw him again.

Mary gnashed her teeth and her face contorted like it had at the flat, not really coming to rest at anything but losing pieces of its humanity.

"Not all of us are so easily killed. It was a silver bullet that shot John in Afghanistan after all, by some of your kind I might add. You people have a nasty habit of lashing out at things you don't understand. Such simple minds." Mary retorted with a nasty smirk that almost looked like a non-verbal death threat if that were possible.

Sherlock studied the woman for a moment as he considered what had happened in Afghanistan that led to such an outcome, given Mary's intensity it must have been highly traumatic. He wondered what it had felt like for John to have silver pierce his flesh; he'd seen what it had done to his arms. He wondered just how lucky he was to have met John at all.

"Well, John won't be going with you so that hardly matters." Sherlock deflected and chose to look out the window rather than encounter the smug look that was no doubt being sported by Mycroft at the moment.

"I think that depends on what Moriarty has managed to do to him so far." Mary said quietly, almost to herself though everyone in the car had heard it.

Sherlock wondered if she had meant it more as a comeback or if she was simply considering the possibility. Whichever it was, it had managed to make Sherlock's mind go numb with panic once again. He pushed it down to focus on saving John. According to Mary, of the three places Mycroft's men determined Moriarty could be hiding only one made any sense at all and they were nearly there.


	9. Chapter 9

John was real tired of being strapped down to chairs with silver, even if his restraints were considerably less concentrated. Moriarty must have worked out a very potent combination of metals to manage a level of silver that could burn without being too destructive, much like his own personal recipe for whatever the hell had been injected into John earlier. For the moment he was alone and he used his time to test the strength of the restraints: too strong to break in his condition unfortunately, but if need be a large surge of adrenalin could do the trick. Considering he was more than likely brought there to be… mated by Moriarty the chances of his body entering fight or flight mode were relatively high, assuming they didn't drug him further, which he highly doubted.

His head snapped forward when he heard the metal cell door clang open and his muscles tensed in response. Sebastian stood in the entrance observing him almost contemptuously. He snarled at the thought, he'd give anything to punch Sebastian in the face just then. Regrettably he was still chained down to the cold metal chair and could do nothing more than make low growls in the back of his throat. The soldier moved closer and circled John as if he were prey for a few moments before coming to rest in front of him. Sebastian had never been the sort of bloke who made you feel at ease, but in the dim prison lighting and strapped to a silver infused chair he looked positively frightening. The blond scruff on his chin accented his tan and coveredup some of the worst parts of an old battle scar. From the looks of it he'd gotten it fighting another wolf. John wondered if it was one of the many he lured here to be tortured by Jim.

"The boss says you're holding up well, I'm proud of you Watson." Sebastian smirked and looked at the veins becoming more prominent on John's neck.

The combination of rage and silver exposure wasn't doing any favours for his blood pressure and he tried to regulate his breathing as he stared down his supposed friend.

"Wish I could say the same for you. Tell me, what made you do it? Because the Sebastian I knew could be cruel but not like this, not like this." John huffed out and winced as the muffled sounds of someone's pained moans echoed off the cement walls.

Sebastian stared for a beat before rolling his shoulders and considering his answer.

"Obviously you don't know me very well. As far as I'm concerned this is all too bloody fun to be arsed to care about a few worthless pricks." Sebastian chuckled and crossed his arms.

John was shocked into momentary silence at the confession. Not even in his wildest fantasies did he think one of his friends would have said that. Everyone knew Sebastian could be a bit off but nothing like this.

"They're not worthless! You're talking about innocent people! Your people!" John shouted earnestly. To be so candid about something so disgustingly horrific was more than sickening. He vowed that if he made it out of there that he would take Sebastian out; there was no way he could be forgiven for what he'd done.

Moriarty was a sick bastard to be sure, but he was human and they didn't have the sense of loyalty like werewolves had. John had only met a select few who came close and even they couldn't understand the link that was shared among all wolves.

"My people? Come on, what have they ever done for me? Honestly ask yourself what your pack did for you other than teach you to tuck tail and hide from every human who happened to look at you funny. Besides, wolves are boring, so predictable. Humans, now they are bloody entertaining. So determined to kill each other off." Sebastian said maliciously and scoffed at John's indignation.

"Yeah? Is that why you decided to become one of their lap dogs?" John asked bitterly and allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as anger flashed across Sebastian's face.

"I'll show you lap dog you son of a bitch!" Sebastian growled and pulled out a knife from his pocket as he rushed towards John. The doctor braced himself for the attack just as Moriarty entered the room and held up a hand.

"None of that. I want Johnny-boy in prime condition for the binding process." Moriarty commanded and Sebastian stopped in his tracks, something John had never seen him do before.

With a flash of understanding John let out a gasp.

"You let him mate you. You let him mate you after all those others." John whispered in horrified disbelief. To willingly allow such a thing was unspeakable, it went against everything they believed in.

"I came after no one! I am the first, the alpha!" Sebastian shouted and shifted out of his growing rage.

Moriarty came to his side and ran a hand through the rising fur on the back of his neck. In shifted form Sebastian looked more beast than man and next to Moriarty he looked particularly threatening. Moriarty most likely mentally restrained him before walking towards John as he did nothing.

"Yes, Sebastian is something of a special pet." Moriarty explained almost pleasantly as he studied John's shallow breahing and rapid heart beat.

"You could be too, I'm sure you'd be remarkable. Not to mention Sherlock's reaction would be priceless, him knowing I'd managed to have you in ways he never could." Moriarty continued and ran his tongue across his teeth obscenely.

As revulsion overtook him, John couldn't help the shiver that shook his frame.

"I'd never work for you. No bond is so powerful to make me stoop that low. I will fight you till my dying breath and that is a promise." John growled and Moriarty looked put out for a beat before another stomach churning smile took over his face once more.

"Pity. Though that could be just as interesting I suppose. Perhaps your friend Mary will be of more help. She isn't very fond of humans but I'm sure that's something we can work around. After all I'm sure I'll manage to find plenty she can kill." Moriarty mused.

John's chest pinched with fear at the thought of Mary. He desperately hoped she was miles away from London; he couldn't stand the thought of her being taken again, even given recent circumstances.

"Maybe I'll let her get her hands on the men who organized her kidnapping. After all, I'm sure Sebastian still has their number." Moriarty said with a smile and John's blood went red hot.

Sebastian had sold her out? Had her taken by those fucking pigs? He was their friend! No… obviously not, he was no better than Moriarty.

"I'm going to gut you for that." John snarled at Sebastian and was met with a snap of his teeth.

Moriarty laughed at their interaction and patted John on the head as if he were a dog. If he could he would have bitten him.

"Doubtful, but I admire your spark." Moriarty said lightly and tapped the side of John's face. "Now let's get this mating business over with, I don't want to risk the chance of everyone's favourite detective bursting in here and ruining all the fun." Moriarty practically cooed before shifting his demeanour entirely to something far more frightening. He slammed John's head back against the chair and gripped his jaw tightly.

John was familiar with the mating ritual despite never having attempted it because all werewolves were born with the instinct, and he had even witnessed a few ceremonies. Neither his instincts nor his ceremony experiences showed that force was necessary for the bond, no blood was ever shed. The offering of one's neck to the other is seen as a sign of trust, the trust of your own life in the hands of another. The bite represents the respect for that trust and the promise to see that the life offered is protected. Someone might want to inform Moriarty of that if the scar on Sebastian's neck was anything to go by. He had a feeling Moriarty would make it a violent affair so he felt no sense of surprise as his head was pinned back and a set of human teeth dragged across his neck tauntingly.

"Get it over with would you." John spit and pulled against the hand that held him. If it was going to happen he wanted it done fast.

Moriarty laughed at his demand and pushed harder with his hand making John's neck bend uncomfortably.

"Now that's no way to talk to your future mate! Besides I want to enjoy this." Moriarty replied maniacally and John flinched at the use of the term mate.

No matter what happened Moriarty would not be his mate.

"Sorry to disappoint you then." Came the smart remark from a voice John had nearly forgotten. Mary was in her shifted form but he'd have recognized her no matter what. She appeared to be alone, but not bothered by it in the slightest.

Sebastian hurtled towards her, determined to bring her to a bloody end. John might have been scared for her given Sebastian's superior fighting abilities, only everyone knew that he was better with a gun, while Mary was well known for her knowledge of the human body (in respect to both pain and pleasure). In less than a minute the blond monster was out cold on the ground and Moriarty was pulling out a rather ominous looking weapon from his jacket.

"Mary, it's silver!" John warned and Mary nodded in recognition.

Moriarty aimed at the tenacious woman's head and practically snarled at her.

"How did you get past the guards, all the security?!" He demanded to know and shook his weapon threateningly.

Mary kept her eye on the weapon at all times but offered him a smug grin.

"I'm smarter than your drugged out mutts; besides, I make it my business to know how to protect one of my own." Mary explained imperiously and John fought the urge to roll his eyes. She always seemed to find a way to insult the person holding a gun to her head.

Moriarty's grip on the weapon tightened and John feared the worse. He thought quickly and decided a distraction was necessary if they were going to make it out alive. Using what was left of his strength he launched himself forward, pulling at the restraints and in turn the chair. He went tipping forward and managed to scrap Moriarty's leg, providing Mary just enough time to remove his weapon and then knock him out as well. She helped John up quickly after she unlocked the restraints with the key in Sebastian's pocket. John was a bit shaky on his legs given his exposure to silver, but he did his best to stay up straight.

"How did you find me?" John asked in amazement and Mary blushed with a hint of embarrassment.

"I might have gotten some help from that ape of yours." She grumbled and John smiled at her triumphantly.

"Not so bad is he?" He asked and she sneered.

"Let's save the political debate for later, we have to get out of here." She said quickly and began dragging John towards the cell door.

He tugged back before she pulled him out of the room and she looked back at him curiously.

"We should make sure he's dead, you have no idea what that bastard's been up to. Sebastian too." John stated darkly and Mary stared at him for a moment before shaking her head.

"It's too risky, I have no idea how many alarm bells I just set off by knocking him out; I can't risk killing him." She explained and John had no choice but to follow her out of the prison.


	10. Chapter 10

"Alright, alright! Hey, who's the doctor here?!"

"Irrelevant, you're also an idiot and under the influence of an unknown substance."

"Jesus, please spare me the mother hen act ok? Can I just get a pair of pants?"

John hadn't been in Sherlock's presence for more than thirty minutes and the detective was already driving him raving mad. Once he'd escaped rather uneventfully (other than one or two ambitious guards' attempts to stop them) there was the car ride over to… well whatever the hell Mycroft had set up. It was some sort of private medical/scientific research and treatment centre. Sherlock had clung to him almost immediately and much like at the pool he began trying to strip him of his clothes. Apparently there was a possibility his clothes might have trackers or even traces of silver. John wasn't sure how much he believed that, but he wouldn't put it past Moriarty either. That left John starkers in the back of a government car with _the_ British government, his crazy flat mate, and his once huge crush/best friend/almost mate. Needless to say he was less than thrilled.

Once at the facility there was a lot of poking and prodding, however most of it was done by Sherlock not the doctors. Once a preliminary check was done, with no need to raise alarm, Sherlock continued to study every scratch and bruise as if it might tell him what happened: knowing Sherlock it probably did. Except that was beside the point, the point was John could simply tell him what he wanted to know and he could do it preferably with some underwear on rather than sitting naked on some sterilized cot.

"I don't know, I think I rather like you like this." Mary commented as her gaze dragged across his body and he could feel his ears turning pink. It wasn't that he was embarrassed of being seen nude by Mary, or anyone really, but he didn't much like allowing everyone an eyeful either. Sherlock glared at Mary and moved in her line of sight.

"I think you've seen quite enough." He hissed.

John really wished they wouldn't fight because he'd had just enough of drama for the day. Mary simply made a rude gesture and rolled her eyes. Mycroft had one of the staff bring him some scrubs until Anthea brought John some of his clothes. Once dressed again John felt significantly better and sat on the cot since his legs still felt weak from the trace amounts of silver in his bloodstream. His blood work was being done at the moment so they had some time to wait until the results came back and he'd feel safe leaving.

"I'm not sure that I have." Mycroft said as his calculating stare pinned John to his spot.

John and Mary were both startled at the statement and their eyes went wide as saucers. Sherlock looked as though he were about to murder the man until Mycroft held up one hand to arrest his movements.

"What I mean to say is I'm curious about your mutation." He clarified.

John felt relieved and yet utterly terrified because while he did not want to imagine the scenario in which Mycroft Holmes was interested in him sexually he also did not want to end up as his personal lab rat. Scarier still, he didn't even know how Sherlock would feel about that. The detective didn't seem angry with him for keeping such a secret or even overly invasive after figuring it out. Would he let Mycroft test on him? For the sake of science perhaps? maybe as a means of revenge for hiding that from him?

"Not too curious I hope." Mary said forebodingly. "And it's not a mutation. We're not some deformed version of humanity. We are our own race; we are something far superior to man." She continued bitterly and John was surprised he hadn't heard such a speech earlier. "Besides, you know far too much already. Humans are not supposed to know about us. I sought your help to save John and that was the only reason, if not for him I would have said nothing. If he were smart he'd realize what a risk I took in saving him and come away with me now." Mary said scathingly before turning towards John. "It is not safe to be around these people, not now that they know what you are. Think of Moriarty, of Sebastian, think of the dozens of our people locked within those cells. Would you trade one prison for another?" Mary finished desperately, all the while drawing nearer.

Sherlock tensed noticeably and shifted closer to John.

"John's no prisoner." Sherlock stated defiantly and offered a look back to John to confirm he knew this as well.

John smiled faintly at the gesture but pushed him to the side so he could see Mary better. It seemed Sherlock wasn't too angry at him, at least not enough to leave him with his brother. He was almost surprised how relieved he was to know that Sherlock wasn't freaked out or angry enough to cast him aside, but at the moment he was more concerned with Mary.

"Why would we trust you? Humans lie all the time, they have no loyalty." Mary argued and clenched her fists.

Sherlock looked ready to fight back, but John really didn't want to see how that would play out considering he didn't have any claws of his own. Also he had a few words he'd been meaning to have with Mary.

"You're one to speak of loyalty. You killed Jimmy for going on a date with a human, that's never been a crime punishable by death. In fact plenty of us do it." John pointed out harshly. Mary had just saved him and he was thankful, but saving his life didn't forgive her for taking Jimmy's.

"I didn't kill Jimmy because he went on some stupid date. I couldn't have cared less if he wanted to get a leg over with some ape slag. I killed him because he sold information to Sebastian and Moriarty. Where do you think he got all those werewolves?" Mary shouted defensively and John felt taken back.

He'd never considered that someone would have sold out their people for money.

"Fuck… do you think anyone else is feeding him information?" John asked carefully and Mary shrugged with a disdainful grunt.

"Jimmy was a scummy bloke, but I didn't think even he'd do it until I saw it happen with my own eyes. It's possible I guess, but I wouldn't have a clue where to start looking for them." Mary admitted regretfully.

John sucked in a deep breath and realized that he was going to have to tell her eventually and the longer he waited the angrier she would be for withholding information.

"We've got to shut him down, and I mean like yesterday." John said sternly and Mary studied him closely.

"Obviously we've been trying to shut down his operation for months, you know that." Sherlock interjected as though John had forgotten.

Mycroft nodded in agreement and intensified his gaze on John.

"No, you don't understand. He's… the stuff he's doing is… it's so beyond wrong I can't believe someone even thought to do it." John said shakily as he thought back to the men and women who had been forced into something so horrific he still had to fight the urge to vomit as he thought of it.

Sherlock moved a hesitant hand onto his shoulder and John looked up appreciatively. Sherlock likely wouldn't understand, but at least he would care. Mary on the other hand would probably be as sick as John.

"What did he do John, did he hurt you?" Sherlock asked quietly and searched John's face to confirm any suspicions he might have had.

John shook his head and looked over to an anxious Mary.

"No, Mary came just in time to save me, but all the others… Mary, they… Jesus, he's mated them." John choked out and Mary stared in disbelief.

Sherlock and Mycroft looked thoroughly confused but said nothing for the time being.

"What do you mean? What do you mean he's mated them?" She questioned almost hysterically.

John swallowed down the lump in his throat and did his best to look into her pleading eyes.

"That-" John swallowed down the lump in his throat and did his best to look into her pleading eyes. "That the chair you found me strapped to, he's been using it to restrain them. He straps them down and then he… he mates them. I was going to be number fifty-seven." John confessed brokenly and Mary let out a horrified gasp.

She was at his side in an instant and clinging to him for dear life. She shook violently and he wrapped his arms around her to calm her as best he could.

"Humans can't mate; they can't even breed with us. This is impossible. They should be rebelling; it's a forced bond. This isn't right, it can't be. This can't be true John." Mary rambled hopelessly as she denied the repulsive truth.

John just held tighter and fought back his own tears. Those people's souls were trapped in a bond with the most psychotic man in the world and there was nothing they could do about it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry it's been so long! My beta (the fabulous Telula13) and I have both been rather busy. I'm hoping to shoot out the next few chapters quickly to make up or it. As always feel free to comment, I love hearing what you guys have to say about my stories and I appreciate any feed back.**

John wasn't sure if the emotion he felt in arriving back at 221b could be described as happiness. Really it was a tangle of anxiety, dread, comfort, and anticipation. Of course he was glad to no longer be in that horrid medical research facility and back in his flat, but there were matters that needed to be addressed. They hadn't spoken more about what he'd seen or anything about werewolves; in fact he spent most of the car ride whispering with Mary about Moriarty's werewolves. She managed to compose herself quickly (it wasn't in her nature to look weak in front of others), but she was still spooked-she had every right to be. John, himself, was going through an emotional upheaval over what he'd learned, but at the moment he was more concerned about the two brothers who had been watching them very closely all the way over.

Mary looked tense and ready to pounce if she thought it was necessary.

John hoped she wouldn't, but figured it'd be best to play it safe and sat next to her on the sofa in case he needed to restrain her. Knowing Sherlock and Mycroft it was likely they'd take a step too far. He wanted to make some tea to calm everybody's nerves but leaving the three of them alone in the sitting room didn't seem like the best of ideas. They were all seated (John and Mary on the couch and Mycroft in John's chair) except for Sherlock who chose to hover over everybody. John watched him nervously and wondered what could have possibly been running through his mind. Sherlock was such a mystery, he could have been thinking anything. John hoped that whatever it was didn't leave him as just another science experiment. Whatever his position on the matter John knew that it wouldn't make much difference. Even if Sherlock was content to live with a werewolf and treat John as if nothing had changed, the word would spread. People would hear of the werewolf who betrayed their kind, and the human who knew too much. If he stayed it was very possible a price would be put on both their heads.

Mary was the first to break the tense silence that had encased them which came as quite the shock. John thought she'd fight to prevent their exposure to the last second. However, she looked tired and there was something burning in her eyes that had nothing to do with the Holmes brothers.

"You have more questions, ask them." She said simply and John watched her take in a deep breath to calm herself.

Silence fell over the room once more and the two brothers exchanged a curious look. John took Mary's hand in support and offered a small smile that she returned a bit weakly.

"Explain mating. Why is it so important? Why would Moriarty be interested in it?" Sherlock snapped quickly as he observed the two on the sofa.

They sat and thought for a moment and when John was sure that Mary wasn't going to say anything he spoke up.

"Its hard to explain if you're not already familiar with what a bond feels like. Think of it as though this thin string connects all werewolves. When we're in werewolf form that string strengthens so we can sense each other, find others if we need to. This is also what allows us to communicate in wolf form." John explained and paused a moment as both Sherlock and Mycroft processed everything.

Mary still looked as though she was wary of telling them all this, but it was too late to turn back.

"The strings that connect us are our souls, they reach out to each other and hold us together. The strings, or bonds, are stronger between friends and family. These are typically the people you're in a pack with since most don't socialize outside of their packs. When you decide to mate, it's the biggest decision you will ever make. You make the choice to share part of your soul, to bind yourself for eternity to one person. There is no other connection more sacred or important. You're connected to that person in ways you could never be with another person. You can share thoughts, feelings, and you can sense where they are at all times. They become a part of you, your other half. To turn against them is unspeakable, and close to impossible. As far as I know it's never been done before. You'd die for them, you'd kill for them, you'd do anything to make them happy. They're everything." John finished confidently.

Mary squeezed his hand and he returned the pressure. It wasn't likely Sherlock or Mycroft could truly understand given that humans didn't have such bonds.

"Soul sharing? Interesting concept I suppose, but why would Moriarty be interested? From what you've said it would seem he would be just as connected to them as they are to him. Presuming humans are able to establish such a connection." Mycroft commented from his seat as he mulled over John's statement.

"They can't! Not like we can. Your kind have no real understanding for the word loyalty. We'd die to save our own, we'd do anything for our mate." Mary said harshly and John gripped her hand to try and rein her back in.

"Right, except for the man who sold you all out to the psychopath kidnapping and soul raping the lot of you." Sherlock replied sarcastically with a mocking smirk.

John frowned at him to indicate that he needed to stop because he was no match for Mary if she got into a state.

Mary remained remarkably silent, though her face was twitching as she fought against the urge to shift.

"Well, Sebastian isn't the best example, but as a whole we are incredibly loyal... I wasn't even aware humans could establish a bond though, I'm not sure if it has to do more with loyalty or biology, but as far as I knew humans were incapable of bonding. However as far as I know no one has tried so... it's all very new. From what I can tell being human allows him to form multiple bonds, and it means he isn't as controlled by the bond as a werewolf. He is essentially stealing souls and offering none of himself. He told me that it's the perfect way to control us. He's going to use the bonds to create an army that can't betray him." John explained carefully and took a deep breath to steady himself. He wasn't sure he was ready to think about just how close he came to being another one of the poor sods who had a bond forced on them.

"It doesn't make any sense though. You can't force a bond." Mary protested angrily causing Mycroft to quirk his brow and cuing John to explain.

"In the past people have tried to force bonds, usually to people who have more money or a higher status. Only it's never ended well. The bond isn't consensual, which makes it weak. A weak bond has been known to cause mental as well as physical illness. In some occasions people have died. Souls are a very real and important part of our lives, to have it come to any harm is unthinkable. I'm not sure why the people inside there aren't seriously ill, or trying to rebel. A weak bond hasn't been known to allow control over the other person. It could have something to do with the drug he gave me." John said as he did his best to understand what was going on as well. So little was actually known about their people and what made them tick, it made it near impossible to determine just what was going on.

"Assuming this drug allowed for a proper bond, he'd be able to control them? That would be the appeal for Moriarty, but why would any of you see any use for allowing someone else to control you?" Sherlock inquired as his mind worked furiously to understand something so far beyond him it was planets away.

"There's more to it than control. It's about trust; you're trusting another person with your most prized possession, your soul. That and you're promising to protect theirs in return, it's about trust and commitment." John clarified and Mary smiled at him brightly as though his description pleased her greatly.

Sherlock offered a tight-lipped smile at the two of them and the muscle around his eye seemed to twitch minutely.

"If you don't trust the other person the bond won't form properly, it's as simple as that. Which is why I have no idea how any proper bond could have been formed with Moriarty." John sighed and Mary nodded her head in agreement.

"How exactly does this bond form? If you don't mind my asking, I'm curious as to the process, is it some sort of… well, mating ritual, if you understand my meaning?" Mycroft probed with rapt attention.

Sherlock furrowed his brow and looked as though he were about to tell his brother to shut up when he was smacked with realization and paled considerably. His eyes searched John's and he looked genuinely scared (or as scared as Sherlock could ever look) which made John's chest go tight in an odd way.

"It's nothing so explicit; though-um-sex is an important part of maintaining a strong bond. The bond starts with one partner offering their neck to the other. Traditionally the woman will offer her neck to the man, but it really makes no difference who does it. Once offered the other partner bites their neck until the bond is formed." John told them with a small smile towards Sherlock to calm him. Obviously the detective was concerned about what Moriarty had intended to do to John; he hoped this helped the man feel less worried.

"Sounds horrid." Sherlock said with a sniff and Mary snarled at him though she didn't move as John's grip on her hand tightened. "So somehow Moriarty is establishing proper bonds to have himself an army of werewolves. Why though? What purpose does he have for an army?" Sherlock mused and pressed his hands together beneath his chin as he thought.

"Who cares, so long as we shut him down I don't care what twisted plans he's made. Let's just go back there and kill the bastard. I can call up some of my pack; though I'm not sure how many of the un-bonded will want to risk being captured. I'm sure once you're all healed up he'll be no problem for us." Mary said confidently and winked at John. John smiled but he did not feel nearly as confident. They got lucky escaping like they had; getting close enough to hurt Moriarty was going to be a lot harder.


	12. Chapter 12

**Yes. Two days in a row.**

"Three days! Three fucking days. He could have bonded a hundred of us by now!"

"They're working on it Mary."

"Can't they work any faster?"

"I'm sure they're going as fast as they can, it's not their fault Moriarty switched locations."

"He had three locations picked out already when you went missing."

"Moriarty is hiding now, he knows we're looking… we will save them Mary."

"Before or after it's too late?"

The room went still and John nearly felt suffocated with how thick the tension was. Sherlock and Mycroft had spent the past three days searching tirelessly for wherever Moriarty had moved his operation, but so far they'd found very little of any use. Mary was frustrated with them and how little she thought they'd achieved considering how much faith they'd put in them. John knew that she was right in a way, they had given away information that no one was supposed to know, and Mary hardly knew the Holmes brothers. This was a very risky move on their part; there was no telling what could happen. Even if John trusted Sherlock he wasn't sure how much he trusted Mycroft or the men he had working on this situation. For all they knew it was only a matter of time before someone else was rounding them up for experiments.

While it was just as likely their own people would turn on them when they discovered what they'd done, so far all of the people who had been informed about what had happened were more concerned about finding where Moriarty was. Plenty of people were concerned and outraged and promised to keep an eye out, but as outraged as they were Mary had spent the past three days calling as many people as she could to help them without much success. Many of the people she associated with were un-bonded young people, and they weren't fond of what might happen if they got taken by the enemy. All of them were raving mad, but they didn't have the courage to risk their soul. John couldn't blame them; he was frightened about what could happen if he lost his as well. Only he wasn't about to let Moriarty get away with destroying all those innocent lives.

"You have to trust them Mary, they're trying their hardest. We are going to save them, we will find a way." John said confidently and stood from his chair to be next to her by the fireplace. She didn't look at him rather continued to stare at the few burnt scraps of wood that were lying in the fireplace. She was pissed, and John didn't blame her, but it wouldn't do them any good.

"I can't. I can't just trust them. You know what they're capable of; you can't ask me to trust them. Not after everything they've done." Mary said quietly and John felt his chest clench at Mary's words. She'd seen the worst of humanity and John knew it was what had warped her, had made her hate humans as much as she did. "We need to save our people from that monster and then leave. I think we've all suffered enough at the hands of these apes." She finished defiantly and looked up to meet John's concerned gaze.

"Mary, no one is going to tell you you're wrong, because you're not. Humans have done so much wrong in this world. We've all been told since we were young pups the horrible things humans are capable of. The way they pick things apart and destroy. How they ruined the earth with pollution and killed one another for nothing more than sport at times. And it's true. It's ugly and disgusting and right there for the world to see and it's true." John admitted and Mary perked and listened as he continued on. "Only they're so much more than that. Yes they've destroyed, but they've created as well. They don't have our claws or teeth or strength, but they have their minds. They are endlessly creative, constantly thinking, and always questioning. You know why we haven't run off into the wild yet? Because it's not in our nature, we like to stick to what we know. When's the last time you heard of a werewolf being encouraged to be different, or to learn, or to be something more? Think about us, think about how angry your parents were that you went into the army rather than join them at that old mill? Humans rely on their minds and their ability to learn where as we rely on our senses and our ability to work as a group. Humans celebrate individuality and we revel in uniformity."

"You're wrong, they only think of themselves. That's not individuality, that's selfishness. We think of our packs, our loved ones. They know only greed where we know love. We can be creative, we can think for ourselves. I do, you do. I mean you're living with a human after all, that's certainly an individual sort of preference." Mary argued vehemently.

"I know we can, but we're not. Not really. We're years behind them. Think what we could achieve if we could work with them, learn from them. There is more to life than packs and bonds and just surviving. Don't you want to live? Don't you want to learn all there is to know about our kind, learn what makes us tick, discover the secrets we've all been carrying in our DNA for years? Don't you want to be something more than just another one of the pack? Don't you want to make a difference? That's what we could do here; we could make a difference, take a stand. Teach our people that humans are like us, they just chose another path." John said enthusiastically and found himself overwhelmed with the passion he felt. For years he wished he could take his people out of the dark ages with their archaic beliefs about humans and the importance of a good education; with a little push maybe they could finally be on their way to achieving that.

"You want to make a difference? Is that why you hang around that ape? Because you think it makes a difference? I've got a news flash for you; none of it makes a difference. Helping humans who have been hurt by other humans, what a waste of time! Do you think solving one murder will prevent people from murdering? Because the answer is no. Humans kill, they steal, they lie, they cheat, they rape… they're monsters. I will not help our people become more like those things, which seek to snuff out every source of joy or light in this world for the sake of science or discovery. You may want to throw yourself among the hoard and that's you're business, but I won't let you drag the rest of us down with you." Mary growled and took a step away from John so he could see how serious she was by how quickly she shifted and bared her teeth.

"They are not the only ones with blood on their hands Mary. How would we know about forced bonding if it hadn't happened before? Would you say that's something people who only know love would do? We have just as many problems as them; we simply refuse to admit them." John said sternly and kept his own shift under control. It wouldn't do the flat any good to have two full-grown werewolves to come to blows.

Mary shook her head in disbelief, refusing to accept the truth.

John was tempted, far too tempted than was decent, to tell her right then what Sebastian had done, how he'd basically handed her over to those terrorists. Only that wasn't right, and he knew it. As hypocritical as it was to argue the negative effects of denying evils he knew it wasn't right. What good would it do Mary to distrust werewolves as well as humans? He would allow her illusion, if anything just to keep her sane. She needed to have someone to trust, even if it meant allowing her to continue being so hateful.

"We are better than them. When you wake up from this dream of yours where you run off into the sunset with that ape detective you will understand that I'm right." She yelled and made her way over to the door. "Call me when they finally find the place, I'll be there to save my people." With that she grabbed her coat and thundered down the stairs.

John let out a sigh and collapsed into his chair. Now he had Mary mad at him and they still needed to find where Moriarty had moved all those people. Not only that, but when they did find him he still had his soul to worry about. Moriarty was sure to be furious about his rescue and the maniac could never resist taking things from Sherlock. John sat for a long time and wondered what it would be like to be one of the dozens Moriarty had taken, and if he'd be one of the lucky ones who died from the connection or if he'd go insane, or worse, if he formed a proper bond.


	13. Chapter 13

**Feels and stuff**

John could think of several times that Sherlock had kept vital information from him, or had taken cases by himself, once he'd even solved an entire case using John's identity. Only this wasn't like any of those times; John had a personal investment in this. He needed to be there when they took Moriarty down, he needed to help somehow. Why Sherlock wasn't letting him was a mystery, one that he intended to get to the bottom of quickly, as soon as the detective returned to their flat in fact.

Except he had no way of knowing when that would be, and considering this was Sherlock it could be a matter of days rather than hours. In fact he'd already been gone for over fifty hours and John had done nothing but wonder when the detective would decide to make an entrance. _Sooner rather than later would be nice_ John thought bitterly as he let his tea go cold for the sixth time that day. He had questions for that impossible man, such as why he had the nerve to deprive John of having any input. It was John who had been in Moriarty's custody after all, he was the one who had seen the man, heard his vile speech. There must have been some way that information could have been of use. John knew it had to be of use somehow, it just had to.

Sherlock hadn't asked anything more since their visit to Mycroft's medical facility, in fact he hadn't said much of anything at all. He'd hardly even been in the flat, but when he was he became quiet and very secretive. He never stayed long, merely passing the allotted amount of time Mycroft had undoubtedly sent him away for, presumably to rest, though John hadn't seen much of that getting done.

John wished Sherlock would walk through the door, just come storming back in one of his usual strops after having to spend time with his brother. Leaving him with nothing more to do then wait for the next time Sherlock was sent home by big brother only to be ignored. He didn't think his temper would hold out if he had to endure another silent treatment from his flatmate though. He needed a plan, preferably one that worked, something that would force Sherlock to talk to him instead of running off to his room.

For maybe the millionth time since he'd been trapped inside his own flat John let out a heavy sigh no one could hear and wished he could have shot some holes into that dreadful wallpaper. He couldn't think of anything useful; his mind was too cluttered. If he shut his eyes for just a moment to consider how he might go about stealing the detective's attention his mind would wander elsewhere. For the most part he couldn't stop thinking about what Moriarty was doing and wished that he could help, which of course brought him back to being angry at Sherlock.

John was also stuck in another equally frustrating train of thought. He couldn't help but think about what Mary said regarding going off into the sunset with Sherlock or some nonsense. She had said it was foolish for him to think he was going to live happily-ever-after with the world's only consulting detective. That wasn't the first time someone had told him as much (Sally being the first and at times most insistent), but it was the first time that it really hit home. John had been planning on leaving before all of this started after all. It was true that he had done very little research into the matter of where he would live, if he would have to switch jobs, and what exactly he was supposed to tell Sherlock. It wasn't reasonable to believe that they could spend the rest of their lives together; they were from two different worlds. He'd known this all along, he'd known it the moment Mike offered him the chance to meet this odd man in need of a flat mate, but he'd gone anyway. He knew that one day he wouldn't be following that tall insufferable man down darkened streets and into danger and mystery.

He'd known that their time was limited, that it really shouldn't have begun at all, he should have told Mike no that infamous day. Only he hadn't, for whatever reason John went, and he fell. He fell for that man and his crimes, his madness, his intelligence, and him. John let himself fall and all the while he knew that it was doomed. Either he was the dumbest man to walk the earth or he was a textbook masochism because how could he let himself fall so hopelessly in love with someone he could never have, someone he would soon never speak to again.

Suddenly the room felt very small and very cold and there wasn't enough air. There wasn't enough air in the entire world to fill his lungs to make them work again, because they didn't want air. They wanted Sherlock. Every fiber of his being needed Sherlock just to function. He could feel the nerves clawing it's way up his spine, screaming at the top of it's lungs until the only thing he could hear was a high-pitched tone blaring in his ears. He wanted it to stop, he wanted to tell the whole world to stop and for time to freeze because his body refused to go any further. He could feel his bones and muscles tense and shift as they attempted to remove themselves from all of time and space so they would never need to proceed further.

They would never need to say goodbye.

John tried to tell himself to be calm, to breathe, but he wouldn't listen. All he could think about was leaving and how it would feel for his heart to be ripped free from his chest as it anchored itself to this flat, to that man. It would hurt, that much was certain. The tearing of muscle and bending of bones as the beating, bloody, mass of muscle wretched itself from John and attached itself to Sherlock. It would tell John as he staggered out the door, blood and despair streaming down his legs and onto the floor, that he had done this. That it was his own fault, he had sealed this fate in deciding he could give his heart to a human, because your heart is not something that can simply be taken back.

As he sucked in worryingly shallow breaths he wondered if that was what it felt like to be mated with someone. The bond between mates was supposed to be stronger than anything. Separated mates had been known to kill themselves. Could there be something stronger than what he was feeling than what he was feeling? Something more powerful than the bone crushing force that had him pinned to his chair? The thought was more than a little frightening. He could see now why there were those who went mad from a poor connection, clearly this was an almighty force.

However, they weren't bonded, they weren't anything but flat mates. At least that's what John was always telling everybody so it must have been partially true. At the very least they couldn't be bonded, he would have noticed that. That didn't make the thought of leaving any less horrific. Besides, John had known he had to leave, he had sat at his laptop and searched for flats. He hadn't had any panic attacks or heart breaking epiphanies then. Why did it take so long to sink in?

There was no use in panicking about leaving; it wouldn't do him any good. More importantly it wouldn't do Sherlock any good, because if John showed any weakness the detective would use it to his advantage. No doubt Sherlock would be forlorn if John was to leave, and he would miss not having a personal doctor/assistant/trained killer. Even if he didn't care for John as much as the doctor cared for him, he was attached at the very least in a professional aspect. Sherlock's claim to being a sociopath might have been a lie (John had seen that proven enough times to know) but he wasn't an overly emotional man either, his feelings towards John had to be professional, friendly at best. He wouldn't want to see John go, but he would move on.

John knew that it was true, and that he'd be better off as well. There was no use sitting around infatuated with a man who couldn't return the favour. Leaving had always been the plan, and as much as it hurt it was time to see it through. He may have become pathetically hopeful at the realization that humans and werewolves could mate, but he'd come crashing back down to earth and it was time to pick up the pieces. Once they'd caught Moriarty he couldn't stay at Baker Street any longer.

All he had to do now was break the news to Sherlock.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for reading so far everybody, I hope you are all liking it. Just a quick announcement, the next chapter won't be up for a while. I'm really sorry that's it's taking so long to get this story finished I've just got a lot going on right now and so does my beta. Hopefully it won't be too long, I might try to work something out where I post the chapter before it's edited just to cut out some of the waiting time and then maybe let you guys know as things get edited. I don't know, I'm still trying to think of what I should do. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

It was hard to believe that John had gone from having an emotional break down at the thought of moving away from Sherlock to wishing to strangle the very same man in the same day, but that was life with Sherlock.

This wasn't John's immediate reaction of course, at first he was relieved to see Sherlock walk through the door. He had about one million things to tell him and another million to ask. Except Sherlock was anything but talkative, he shut himself in his room for two hours before emerging to make himself a cup of tea. John chose that moment to try talking to him again, this time a bit more forcefully. Sherlock remained silent for a moment but eventually he spoke.

John almost wished he hadn't.

He erupted with anger, something that Sherlock likely predicted would happen, John didn't care if he was being predictable.

Sherlock had known for an entire day where Moriarty relocated.

An entire day.

And he hadn't even bothered to tell John. He chose to withhold the information and carry on as if he had every right to. He even had the nerve to try and contact Mary to convince her to help without John.

A stupid idea of course, Mary's loyalty was with John, she wouldn't trust Sherlock enough to go without the doctor. If she hadn't assumed it was a trap it was likely she'd already taken her people to scout out the location. They wouldn't have any back up, no plan 'B'. Mary was tough and smart, but she was head strong and spontaneous.

John didn't like the idea of her going against Moriarty without him but he liked the idea of Sherlock keeping this information from him even less. These were his people after all. They were being kidnapped, drugged,_ mated_ against their will, and John had an obligation to help them. Maybe Mary was right about humans, maybe they couldn't understand what it meant to feel so connected to their own species, to feel such an undying sense of loyalty. Except John knew better, he'd seen the look in Sherlock's eyes that night at the pool, he knew the bond he had with Sherlock was as profound as any bond he shared with a werewolf. Sherlock knew what it meant to be loyal, to feel, but he chose to ignore it for the sake of logic. Only John didn't see the logic in this of betrayal.

Despite all of the shouting John was doing, he wasn't going to shut up until Sherlock provided an explanation. The detective was uncharacteristically quiet since John began his bout of verbal abuse, which only served to infuriate the army doctor more.

"These are my people Sherlock, do you have any idea what it feels like to know that I could have been out there saving them when instead I was sitting in my flat doing absolutely _nothing_?! They are being subjected to the worst kind of torture imaginable! I'm safe in my flat watching some stupid program while Moriarty forces a bond on them, drives them insane, fills their blood with silver!?" John fumed at the impossible man in front of him.

Sherlock's eye twitched minutely and his lips went thin as John's hands balled up into tight fists. "That is precisely the reason I did not tell you." Sherlock finally spat back.

John stared at him for a moment before stepping closer. "What does that mean?" He asked in a dangerously low voice.

"It means I knew you would insist on throwing yourself into the line of fire as usual, even when something as vitally important as your soul is on the line! You may feel some sense of responsibility for these people, but I don't. I don't know if this is news to you John, but I've never felt particularly attached to people I haven't met. I'm not going to risk your soul for a few of your kind who managed to get themselves trapped by Moriarty. They're not worth it." Sherlock explained harshly and glared at John with a fire in his eyes that the doctor had only seen once or twice before.

John was silent for a moment as he processed what Sherlock told him. Sherlock wasn't an overly emotional man, John had only seen him this worked up a few times, so it struck him as something profound. It occurred to him that Sherlock might have had some noble intentions in keeping this information from him.

"Then why tell me now? Hmm? If you care so little for them then why tell me now?" John asked with less venom in his voice than before.

Sherlock watched John closely and looked to the floor only briefly as he considered his response. "Because Mycroft said it was necessary, and because if I let them die you would never forgive me." Sherlock said slowly and watched John carefully as if he might explode once more.

John's lips twitched up into a small smile for just second at the confession. There wasn't a single person he knew who would describe Sherlock as a caring person, and yet in these moments John knew that he was just that, a man who cared, but not just for anybody, for those who earned it. His loyalty and trust were for those who worked for it, and John felt honored to be among the few who had.

"So, what now then? Have you decided I'm capable of taking my life into my own hands or is there something else you plan on telling me?" John inquired warily and considering it was unlikely Sherlock would give up so easily.

Sherlock gave a quick smile before casting his gaze down towards the floor. "You are more than capable of handling any number of lives in your hands, my concern was purely emotional. Although, there is something else I wanted to discuss with you." Sherlock replied and looked back up to John's eyes cautiously.

John sucked in a deep breath and nodded affirmatively. "Go ahead, out with it, it's not like you to hold back. Keep in mind that I'm going to help you catch them no matter what though." He said with a tight smile.

Sherlock cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. "I understand your need to protect your own species, I find it illogical, but then, you usually are. I would only ask that you consider mating with someone beforehand. If Moriarty were to... if he captured you and forced such a thing upon you, I could never-it would be an undesirable outcome." Sherlock said as his eyes skirted around the room as if they were trying to run away.

John's jaw dropped in shock and he knew that this had to be the biggest thing Sherlock had ever asked of him yet. "Do... do you have any suggestions as to _who_ I'm supposed to mate with? It's not something I really plan to do with a stranger you know." John stammered and watched as Sherlock squirmed almost imperceptibly.

"Well, I realize this is an important step for you. I thought perhaps you could... maybe that you could mate with me since we are already very close and of course it's purely for your protection. I would understand if you preferred someone such as Mary obviously." Sherlock blurted out nervously and brushed away some non-existent lint from his shoulders to distract himself.

John gaped at the man in front of him and shook his head to drive away the shock. Sherlock Holmes asked him to mate, and he knew the implications of that request. His heart skipped a beat and he felt blood rise to his cheeks.

"I'm not sure Mary and I would be the best match, not anymore." John admitted contemplating how life with Sherlock would change if they were bonded.

He wasn't sure how much closer he could feel to a person, or if Sherlock would be affected at all, but he supposed that the detective was the only person he could honestly consider mating. Except he wasn't sure he wanted to commit himself to Sherlock if he wasn't thinking about the level of trust that was involved, or if he wasn't ready for it there was a possibility of getting hurt, even if he was a human.

"You do understand what you're suggesting right? This is a life long connection, once formed it cannot be severed, and if you're not ready to submit to that it can end badly." John warned but took a charged step forward as his eyes locked onto Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock swallowed visibly as his eyes followed John's gaze. "I'm not an idiot John, I understand. I am more than ready." Sherlock declared imperiously though there was a slight tremor in his lower lip that suggested he was just as nervous as John.

John smiled triumphantly, he liked that Sherlock was hesitant for once. He truly relished the small quiver of Sherlock's brow and how his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but he needed to be sure Sherlock was ready. "Don't say things you don't mean because there is no turning back once I form the bond." John said almost teasingly. He had gotten close by that point, much closer than he remembered being just a few seconds previous.

Sherlock was backing himself into the kitchen counter to gain some distance between the two of them and failing miserably. His eyes were just wide enough that John could detect the hint of panic there. His heart rate increased exponentially as John approached, and a heady stream of pheromones billowed out towards John. Sherlock's pupils began to dilate as well when his hips hit the counter and he had nowhere else to go. Finally he tried to compose himself by straining the muscles in his face, as if his neutral expression could mask the thousands of other little cues his body was sending out.

"I know what I'm agreeing to, I understand the risks. I want this." Sherlock ground out through his clenched jaw.

John nearly cooed in response as he pushed himself closer to Sherlock, his eyes observing every quiver, every spasm, taking in every scent and sound, but always focused on that pale neck. He knew Sherlock was excellent at fooling most humans (the exception being his brother and perhaps Moriarty), but he could never get anything past John's keen senses. John smelled the desire rolling off of Sherlock as well as traces of uncertainty. He didn't blame Sherlock for being worried, they were talking about something life altering, an irreversible step forward in their relationship. They would be connected forever through an unbreakable bond they...

They'd never be apart.

John took a step back and did his best to ignore the dropping feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He couldn't mate with Sherlock; he wasn't even supposed to be living with him. It'd only been a few hours ago that he come to terms with having to leave and he'd let himself get sucked in by the thought of mating Sherlock. He couldn't mate Sherlock, not without putting him in significant danger. Werewolves looked down on those who socialized regularly with humans, even the most liberal of them agreed that socialization was to be kept to a minimum, nothing serious.

John breathed deeply through his nose and let out a heavy sigh. "Sherlock, I've left something out. Something important." John admitted reluctantly and gave an apologetic smile.

Sherlock looked confused briefly but quickly neutralized his expression. "Doubtful that it's anything I haven't figured out for myself John, but if it comforts you to say then by all means do so quickly so we may move on." Sherlock answered curtly.

John scoffed at his friend's abrasive nature and suppressed an amused chuckle. As annoying as Sherlock was he couldn't help but find him oddly charming, which wasn't overly helpful at the moment. "I was planning on leaving after this is all over with. In fact I had been planning on leaving for a while before any of this even started. I'd just been delaying telling you, I wasn't sure how you'd react." John explicated tentatively as he observed Sherlock.

Sherlock blanked for a beat but regained his senses promptly. "I hadn't made any plans for leaving London any time soon, but I suppose it could be arranged." He replied smoothly with a vague shrugging motion.

John let out a long-suffering sigh and cursed himself internally. "Sherlock, I meant without you. Before it was to keep you from knowing my secret, I had hoped to avoid you learning. Now that you do you're in far more danger. Staying around me would be unwise, there's no telling how many werewolves could learn that our secret has been let out or how they will take the news. There are many who would want to see you dead." John informed regretfully.

Sherlock's eye twitched ever so slightly before he went tight lipped. "I should have expected as much. You are, as always, so predictably obtuse. Did it ever occur to you that if you leave I'd be in more danger? Who's to keep them from attacking if not one of their own?" Sherlock inquired darkly and straightened himself out so he could look down on John. "Mycroft's people can barely function, you can't expect them to provide any sort of security. If it's my safety you're concerned about then you have no other choice than to keep me as close as possible." He concluded and pushed himself away from the counter and closer to John to put emphasis on his last statement.

John stared thoughtfully for a few minutes at the impossible man in front of him.

John supposed he was the best at keeping Sherlock safe, even if John was the one to get him in trouble in the first place. John still thought that their continued relationship would only serve as a catalyst to their problems. If they were mated there would be even worse consequences. It was fairly obvious to John that mating Sherlock was probably the greatest dumb idea there ever was; he only had to convince Sherlock.

"I know it seems very black and white to you, but trust me, things can only get more complicated. I don't think even the most liberal of our kind would approve of this. We'd be inviting ourselves to be an open target to both sides of the werewolf community. Those who think themselves better than humans will want to kill us for muddying up the water so to speak. The ones who are more concerned with staying hidden from humans will want us dead for the sake of secrecy. Either way we're digging our own graves by mating." John clarified solemnly.

Sherlock glared at John for a second or two before gripping John's shoulders and bringing their foreheads together. "I. Don't. Care." He growled and tightened his grip. "I don't care what anyone else thinks, and if you remember correctly you'll find that I never have. I want this, I want to be as close to you as I possibly can and I want to own and be owned. I trust you, you trust me. What more to this is there? What's a few more people trying to kill us if we can have this?" Sherlock questioned passionately as his eyes bore holes into John's.

John was speechless for a moment as his brain processed. "I thought you just wanted to prevent Moriarty from mating me himself?" John posed almost innocently.

Sherlock smirked devilishly. "Well, there's also that, of course." He replied candidly.

John smirked as well and moved slightly closer as he fought a losing battle against his baser instincts. "If I were to mate you-" John said quietly and smiled wider as he registered the shiver that ran down Sherlock's spine. "It would be the dumbest thing I'd ever done, and something I most certainly lived to regret." John practically purred and placed his hands on the lean waist in front of him, his fingers moving teasingly over tensed muscles. "And-" John whispered as he leaned in and let his lips brush against a smooth porcelain cheek.

"And?" Sherlock asked shakily, his hands clinging desperately to John's shoulders.

"And it will be dangerous." John concluded with a step forward, closing the gap between the two men.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Sherlock breathed out heavily.

"Good." John rumbled and dragged his teeth down Sherlock's jaw teasingly.

Sherlock's breath hitched for a fraction of a second and his arms wrapped around John's back pulling him in close. Sherlock's heart rate doubled as John's mouth trailed down his neck and brushed against his Adam's apple.

John led Sherlock back against the counter to give him something to lean on while John formed the bond. He flicked his tongue out quickly to taste some of the pheromones he'd smelled. His nostrils flared and he nearly bit down on Sherlock's neck then. John might not have bothered resisting if he hadn't remembered that Sherlock wouldn't know what to be expecting so there were some explanations in order. "It's going to make you tired. At least it makes us tired." John warned as he licked Sherlock's neck once again, savoring his musky taste.

Sherlock made a noise that could be best described as a whimper when John's tongue streaked across his neck. "How tired?" He managed to say between huffed breaths.

"Hmm, tired enough to pass out promptly after. It's a lot to process you know. Your soul being bonded." John hummed into Sherlock's pale skin.

Sherlock's fingers dug into John's shoulder blades almost violently as he sucked in a deep breath. "Oh? Anything else you'd like to tell me before you... bite me." Sherlock sighed in a way that made John's stomach go tight. "Do you need to be in your wolf form?" He asked hopefully.

John smiled and shook his head. "No, though I've seen it done that way. Not very safe for you, considering humans aren't well known for their ability to survive their necks pierced by razor-sharp fangs." John explained softly and held tighter to Sherlock's waist when he felt the detective go weak in the knees. "Bit not good, you know? Finding that a turn on." He said jokingly and nuzzled Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock chuckled softly as one of his hands crawled up to cradle the back of John's skull. "Well, good has never been my specialty." Sherlock said playfully and pushed himself towards John, seeking more contact.

John nipped Sherlock's neck experimentally and a growl bubbled up from the back of his throat, vocalizing his need. He could smell Sherlock's desire, his curiosity, his fear. John could feel every muscle in his body tense as it prepared for the bond and gripped tighter to Sherlock. John could feel the hand on the back of his neck trembling with anticipation and his eyelids grew heavy with lust. He waited a few minutes as his body processed the change that was about to occur; he could feel a great force of energy waiting to spring forth. Every nerve in his body was electrified, and his muscles quivered with intensity. "Are you ready?" He asked in a whisper.

Sherlock bit down on his lip painfully and nodded in confirmation. His long limbs were wound around John and his back was flush against the kitchen counter for support. Sherlock's breathing was shallow and John's was quickly following suit.

Having no more patience to spare John dipped his head down the barest of centimetres and pressed his lips to the neck he had been lavishing with his tongue. He could smell Sherlock in his purest form there, it was a dark smoky smell that clouded his senses and drove him insane. He'd never been able to breathe it in so deeply, savor all of its rich musk. John had never allowed more than a quick sniff; just enough to claim it was a precautionary measure.

There was no need to fool anyone anymore though and he basked in the rich chemically charged scent that Sherlock emitted.

John opened his mouth to the cooling skin and let his teeth graze across the pale expanses of Sherlock's neck. He could feel the bond beginning; it was as if his soul were reaching out, pulling away from John, and pushing into Sherlock. John's body trembled as he finally sunk his teeth into Sherlock's soft flesh and allowed the bond to take hold.

John had no words to describe the rush of emotions than ran through him and the physical pain he felt as his very soul tore itself apart. He felt everything so deeply he couldn't process half of it. All of the love, the devotion, the possessiveness, he felt for Sherlock before was magnified as a growing sense of 'mine' began to take over. He could feel his body gripping Sherlock tighter, ensuring the man couldn't be taken away as the bond took hold. John's soul had disembodied itself and latched onto Sherlock. The slow burn of their two souls merging into one nearly drove John insane before it could finish.

Finally with a silent hiss the pressure dissipated and John floated back down to earth. Suddenly John's muscles went slack, his vision began to blur, and his head went fuzzy. He opened his mouth and released Sherlock's neck just as he began to sway.

"That was… amazing" John slurred and fell back against the kitchen table.

"John?" Sherlock questioned almost nervously and surged forward to catch the doctor as his legs gave out. "I didn't know you were being literal about the passing out." Sherlock informed sardonically as he dragged John to the sofa.

John landed on the couch with a thump and tried to cling to his last moments of wakefulness. "I wasn't." John admitted and in the back of his mind tendrils of panic slithered through his exhaustion.

"What?" Sherlock asked anxiously. "John, this isn't normal?" Sherlock pressed on when John didn't answer.

"I… no, I don't know, I've never-maybe with humans? I'm so tired." John mumbled sleepily as his body fought a losing battle against waves of sleep engulfing him.

"Why aren't I tired? Did something go wrong?" Sherlock inquired frantically and tried to shake John awake. "John, answer me! Are you going to be ok?"

"God I hope so, I'd hate to die without even kissing you properly." John confessed as his eyes shut firmly.

Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and hauled him upwards to kiss him squarely on the mouth. There wasn't much to the kiss but in it Sherlock conveyed his fear and his desperation. "You won't die. You can't." Sherlock hissed.

John slumped back down onto the sofa and dropped off into a deep sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, sorry for the crazy long wait. Unfortunately the next chapter won't be up any time soon. I've been dealing with some personal issues so I haven't had time for writing. I apologize for the wait and I hope you guys like this chapter.**

"I can't believe this!"

"Mary, calm down."

"Actually, I take that back, I _totally_ believe this! This is so like you!"

"Would you stop spazzing out for a minute so I can talk to you?"

"No!"

John heaved a great sigh as he watched Mary walk from the far corner of the room to him and then back again. She'd been doing so for almost twenty minutes and it was beginning to wear on his patience.

Mary had known the instant John had walked into the room that he'd bonded, and she knew who with. She definitely wasn't pleased and she wasn't the only one.

There was a long line of people ready to get on board Mary's tirade, though they were silent at the moment.

Mycroft had his suspicions upon their arrival, suspicions that were confirmed by the loud gasp Mary had emitted. He'd advised Sherlock against mating; he'd thought it too dangerous. His warning had fallen on deaf ears once again.

John could have saved him his breath; Sherlock rarely took his brother's advice.

Harriet-who John still wasn't sure belonged there-had been thrown to be sure. She wasn't one of Sherlock's fans (granted that was a short list of people, even shorter if psychopaths were removed), but at the very least she was taking the news better than Mary.

Mary was certainly the loudest protester and John couldn't argue that she seemed to be the angriest.

However, John knew that there was someone who was angrier than all of them combined, which might have come as a shock to most.

Sherlock had been the most upset by the bond.

At first John thought that the bond had gone wrong, that Sherlock was suffering from some soul related injury. Only as John questioned and inspected Sherlock he soon realized there was a less life threatening reason for his frustration.

John had been asleep for a total of twenty-eight hours.

In all his years John had never heard of a mating ritual causing that long of a black out.

Sherlock was understandably shaken and was convinced that the bond was only for two werewolves; humans weren't meant to be bonded. He blamed himself for any harm that came to John in the process, which was a little ridiculous given John was a consenting adult.

When it came down to it there were three opinions being formed about John and Sherlock's bond in that room as they prepared to invade Moriarty's new site. There were the people who didn't care, which were all of the people John didn't know. There were the people for it, which was John. Then there were the people who were opposed to it, everyone else in the room.

To be fair none of them could see things the way he could. None of them could feel what it was like to have their soul intertwined with Sherlock Holmes. All of his nerves were tingling from the new sensations. John could feel Sherlock's heart beat as if it were beating next to his own. He could sense every mood Sherlock was in and feel the emotions surrounding him. Without looking John could say Sherlock's exact location from intuition alone. All of that paled in comparison to the way it felt to have his soul stretched and merged into Sherlock's. It was as though he'd been walking around with only half a soul and had finally found the missing half. He wondered if Sherlock felt the same.

Sherlock had refused to answer any questions about how the bond had affected him beyond an aggravated 'barely'.

At the moment John was desperately trying to get everyone to focus on the task at hand just long enough to finally save the poor sods trapped inside Moriarty's facility. He wasn't having much luck.

"When that ape called me up I thought that this was it, you were finally going to see him for what he is. A liar! Not your bloody mate!" Mary hollered as she drew close to John once again.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deep. "Can we talk about this another time, please? We've wasted enough time without standing here arguing about something I couldn't change even if I wanted to," John complained and received a few huffs in agreement from the crowd Mary had brought along. He'd assumed they'd be more riled up at the sight of a bonded human/werewolf couple. John tried not to get too hopeful about their neutral responses.

"No, I can't just let this drop. You bonded yourself to a human sociopath!" Mary ranted loudly and threw her hands into the air. "I mean it's not bad enough that you mated with a human who can't even understand the definition of trust, but you had to make it this one?" She continued and moved directly in front of John. "I knew the second you moved in with him nothing good was going to come of it. You're so gullible! You've let your misguided sense of equality lead you to believe you could have a relationship with a human that holds any meaning. You let him draw you in and gain your trust. Now he owns you John, he owns you and there is nothing I can do for you, nothing that anyone can do for you. You might be better off if you didn't make it back from this fight," Mary finished with a tight-lipped frown.

Sherlock surged forward and placed a protective hand on John's shoulder. "If John doesn't make it back then you better hope that you don't either," He threatened 's words

John ignored his shock towards what Mary had said in favor of neutralizing the second outburst in the making. "I don't need your approval Mary, I need your help. Now are you going to help me save those people or are you going to yell at me some more?" He asked warily and did his best to act as though Mary's disapproval meant nothing to him.

Mary nodded stiffly and stepped away. "Fine, lets get this over with. We've waited long enough, but don't think any of this will change anything. After this we're done, do you understand?" Mary sneered.

"Fine," John spat bitterly. Mary might have been the most stubborn person he'd ever met, but for some reason it didn't make the thought of losing her a second time any easier.

"Everyone, let's change and get a move on," John called out to the rest of their group.

Quickly the werewolves removed their clothing, some with more care than others, and began to change. Their bones twisted and snapped as they changed into their wolf forms. Many of them made howling noises as the change came to a close and many shook themselves out.

John felt his senses become more focused and was aware that Sherlock was staring at him. He turned to face the detective and studied him carefully. It was odd to be in wolf form with his new bond. He could feel everything with more intensity and it was a bit overwhelming. It would take getting used to, but John was sure he could manage.

Sherlock looked thrown as well. His eyes were wide and there was a strange half smile forming on his face as he observed John's wolf form. He moved closer and placed a hesitant hand on John's chest. His pupils dilated ever so slightly as his fingers wove through John's fur and he soaked in John's wolf form.

John lowered his head and allowed Sherlock to examine his face and run his hands through his fur. When he felt it went on long enough he lifted his head and pressed his nose to Sherlock's cheek. He hoped that would do for a goodbye.

Sherlock looked pensive but nodded and patted John's head. "Be careful," He whispered and placed a discreet kiss on John's forehead.


End file.
